


moonrise

by year_of_the_pineapple



Series: post-apocalypse [2]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Apocalypse, F/M, General, Part 2, Post-Apocalypse, Romance, Supernatural - Freeform, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 46,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23318749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/year_of_the_pineapple/pseuds/year_of_the_pineapple
Summary: In a post-apocalyptic America, two lonely travellers find hope in the form of a survivor's colony deep in the Nevada desert. But, as weeks pass, they begin to question whether they can trust anybody but each other - and it becomes clear that their fates are more interconnected than either of them realised.- PART 2 OF A SERIES -
Relationships: Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans
Series: post-apocalypse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671649
Comments: 26
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**This story is a sequel to my Soul Eater fic 'after the sun goes down'. If you try to read this without reading that you'll probably be a bit confused by the context.** **(Can you tell I'm bored stuck in quarantine yet?)**

**But you're welcome to read either way!**

* * *

"Are you sure that it wasn't just a fluke? A coyote, or something?" Black Star rolls his eyes for what feels like the fiftieth time in the short car ride. "I just feel like we're on a wild goose chase, here. Nobody fucking comes to the Nevada desert. It's the fucking desert," he riffs. He's got one headphone in one ear and listens to heavy workout music with one, hairy, toned leg propped precociously up on the dashboard.

"It's our job, Black Star. We need to make sure. If there's nobody around then we'll head back," Tsubaki says softly in reply. "I wish you wouldn't always put your feet up. It's so unhygienic, don't you know?" she smiles wistfully, knowing that he's not really listening. She knows her partner well, after all this time. What had it been, eleven years? There was hardly any scenario on earth that they hadn't been through together.

He'd matured, since they were fourteen, but he was still the same old Black Star. And Black Star had nothing if not a big personality. That's what Kid had called it, anyway. Tsubaki called it 'being a character'. Most others at the academy called him an arrogant, egotistical maniac.

It's okay, Tsubaki rationalises - because even though he's complaining – he's here with her, so it's not so bad.

He'd been so _frustrated_ for the last few weeks, she knows that. He felt stuck doing parameter checks, distress signals, the 'boring stuff' as he put it. He wanted desperately to be put back on the frontlines; fighting kishin and zombies. Not that… that was the stuff that he loved doing.

Black Star excelled at fighting enemy targets.

"How is your leg feeling?" she tries for a smile at the figure slumped over in the passenger seat.

"It feels AMAZING. I had NO IDEA why Marie said I can't go out on proper missions." He scowls. "Imagine, trying to keep a GOD like me from fulfilling my righteous duties."

"This is important, too!" Tsubaki pipes up, her voice a quiet but persistent foil to Black Star's grating, melodramatic bluster.

A month ago, Black Star had sprained his ankle on a run. They'd been taken off active duty and put on other tasks, like the one they're on now. It was driving him crazy, and by proxy, was driving her crazy.

"That's not true!" Black Star rips the headphone out his ear. "They're just punishing me for being more godly than the rest of them!" he snaps.

"The rules are the rules for a reason, though," Tsubaki counters. "If you run on your ankle, you might make your injury worse," she points out, ever the pragmatist.

"Those zombies are beyond help," he mutters. "We should be killing them on site." He glares at her from underneath his dark sunglasses. "All I'm doing is God's work, ridding the world of it's dirt and… and…" his face turns a sickly shade of pale as Tsubaki's attention is diverted from her driving, waiting for the end of the sentence.

"What is it, Black Star?" she asks, patient as ever.

He points out the passenger-side window, mouth agape. "STOP! Stop the truck! Is that a _person_?" he asks, incredulous. Tsubaki's hairs stand on end and Black Star gets more frantic. "Look! Down in the sand!" he exclaims. "I think it's a _person_. Tsubaki, turn the truck around!"

Tsubaki's attention is effectively diverted and she follows his finger. "Oh my God, Star." She pales. "I think you might be onto something," she turns her steering round and they drive closer, the slow rumbling of the engine the only noise for a few seconds as they both stare. "Oh _my_. It is."

"Are they… dead?" Black Star voices the question on both their lips.

She shakes her head in disbelief. "C'mon, we should get out and check on them," she says, yanking her hand-brake on and turning off the truck. "C'mon!"

"Wait, Tsubaki!" Black Star stops her, grabbing her arm before she can run off. "We need to be careful. It could be… it could be a zombie. Watch yourself, okay?" he warns her. "You go, I'll grab first-aid from the back." He swings the door open and grabs whatever he sees first – a first-aid kit, some water, some bandages, some of Stein's miracle cure-all painkillers.

He's fiddling around with some nutrition gels when he hears Tsubaki audibly draw in a gasp of air into her lungs. "What? What is it? Is everything okay?"

"Black Star…" she says, slowly, like she can't quite believe it. "You should come here, quick. Black Star, it's… it's _Soul_."

There's a beat.

His mouth falls open so wide that his chewing gum almost falls out. He runs towards Tsubaki, suddenly very alert. They kneel on the ground next to him.

"He's out cold," Tsubaki says. "Jesus, Black Star – can you believe it? I thought he was dead. He's so thin," she gasps, eyes running over his practically emaciated body.

"It's _gotta_ be him – look at his teeth," Black Star rationalises, his voice ramping up like an overexcited puppy. "Soul!" he calls. "Soul, buddy! Can you hear me?" Black Star asks, unscrewing the cap off a bottle of water and dumping it directly onto Soul's face. "Wake up!"

Soul murmurs in response to the water splashing over his face and he screws up his eyes, his body grinding slowly to life. It takes him a minute or two to come to his senses.

Before this, he had been convinced that he had just died – this now came as quite a shock.

"M-maka," he murmurs out. "Maka," he points to some spot far off in the desert, his brain trying hard to put his scrambled thoughts into audible words.

"Others?" Tsubaki asks, her and Black Star sharing a look. "There are others?" she mouths, shocked. "Soul, where are they?"

"I…" Soul falters. "Desert…" his voice comes out in only croaks as his head smacks back down against the sand, exhausted. "They need help," he adds, conspiratorially. He's frustrated at his current inability to articulate, but he's hoping that his murmured words are being understood by his saviours.

Tsubaki's eyes meet Black Star's; both wide as saucers.

This was shaping up to be a hell of a day. And, to _think_ , Black Star dismissed patrol duty as boring.


	2. Chapter 2

**This one is quite rambling. You've been warned.**

* * *

On a large hill, in the middle of the sweeping landscape of nothingness that compromised the worse part of the Nevada Black Rock Desert, there's a small city tucked away from view of the general public. It had sat there for generations, untouched and basically unknown, in origin and in manifestation.

Death City, if the cracked wrought-iron signs are to be believed.

Aptly named; not for it's high mortality rate but instead for its founder and first leader: the late Lord Death. The man himself (if he can even be called such a thing) was sadly now only a memory and a much-treasured relic of the past, but the legend had managed to live on only through only a single son; a neurotic 20-something, somewhat fittingly known as 'Kid Death'.

In the centre of the city lies the beating heart of the old, patchwork buildings and crumbled city streets – an old gothic castle. _Shibusen_. Home to a few, school to some, practically a religion to many more.

In one of the many winding corridors in the left wing, inside one of the many rooms, pressed up against one of it's many jagged walls – sits a slumped, emaciated boy with tousled white hair and a rough stubble which scratches his face as it grows out unevenly.

He stares with definitively troubled maroon eyes out at the city below him, not feeling one bit like the typical king in his castle. Instead, he feels like an outcast. There's nothing stopping him leaving his room, nothing except his own stubborn refusal. Instead he opts to miserably stare out of a single, west-facing window.

The city is a living, breathing thing.

If its heart is Shibusen, then the lifeblood is the military.

He was prone to such poetic thoughts, now he's apparently re-institutionalised himself (against his will). It's a pity that institutions made him so miserable, or else he'd probably write a book.

The thought would make him laugh, if there were anything left to laugh about.

Another glance out the window reveals layers and layers of green jumpsuits.

You can't throw a stone in the city without it hitting a uniformed officer of some description. Not that you _would_ throw stones at them, mind you. Only stupid people would deliberately antagonise a man who can literally turn his left arm into a chainsaw and turn you into chunks.

Weapons, they were called. Is a chainsaw a weapon? Is a scythe a weapon?

Some days Soul feels more like a common agricultural tool. Perhaps there was a lesson in there, somewhere – something about beating your swords into ploughshares, and vice versa?

Soul observes the pattern on his ceiling. There's a crack, one that's been patched up with what looks like sutures made for human skin. It's crescent-shaped, like his blade. He holds one up to the other for comparison.

His blade seems almost absurdly curved, compared to the cracked curve on the wall. He briefly ruminates on the same thought as before, except this time he wonders if his so-called weapon form was more useful as a tool, or as a bad Captain Hook cosplay.

And on that note: why is the ceiling made of patchwork? He asks himself. Is that a stupid design feature or did somebody really _sew_ these two buildings together?

Talk about a DIY home extension…

Professor Stein should really consider a career in architecture, he thinks sardonically, and then tells his brain to shut up.

…

He lets a few seconds tick by, mind devoid of any thoughts with any meat to them, really.

He knows what he's doing.

He's compartmentalising. It's a pretty useful skill, especially in his old line of work. He's letting his brain go off on dumb, inconsequential tangents so that it can remain productive; functional.

Thinking about stupid stuff like Captain Hook, and Stein being an interior decorator – it's actually pretty standard for him. It's a nifty trick taught to him by a therapist, long ago. In a different lifetime, back when his biggest problem was a stifling fraternal rivalry and a parentally-enforced inferiority complex.

_Think about something else._

_Think about anything but the problem._

Let your mind wander freely, as long as you're not dwelling on whatever it is that's holding you back.

The problem with being so self-aware, is that inevitably you're faced with the consequences of realising what you're doing, which leads to thinking about the problem itself.

For Soul, right now, this very thing had happened.

_Maka, in a hospital bed._

_Maka, on life support._

_Maka, in a medically induced coma._

_Maka… infected, by me._

He exhales audibly through his mouth, irritated at how rapidly it took his mind to get there.

Outside, the shuddering wind shakes the leaves from trees; at the height of their autumnal sun in the sky imposes vividly upon every waking surface; imprinting and reflecting off the stretched-out miles of dry creek and rock.

In the streets, groups of soldiers march – their scuffed boots cracking powerfully against ancient cobblestone.

And Soul thinks of a sandy-haired girl trapped on life support, stretched out on a white hospital bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Back to the regularly scheduled fic, I suppose.**

* * *

"GOOOOD MORNING VIETNAM!" Black Star attacks him with forceful energy. Soul's eyes flicker up to the clock on the wall and he groans. "Up and at 'em, bud!" he says in a cocky, singsong tone. "Another day another dollar!"

"It's _six in the morning_ , dude," he hisses through his jagged teeth. "My legs hurt. My eyes hurt. Everything hurts."

"Oh, come off it. You've had…" Black Star does some mental maths and then beams. "…five whole days to recover!" he pauses. "Aren't you feeling _any_ better? I want to play basketball already!" he grins, pulling the sheets from his very groggy, tired friend with a grin. He shudders, suddenly reminded of how skinny Soul is, his legs and torso barely a fraction of Black Star's muscular frame. "Yeesh, man," he backs away, tutting and pointing at his own impressive set of guns. "Double up portions for you today. And we're hitting the gym as soon as you bulk up a little."

Soul rolls his eyes and ignores him. "Any news on Maka?" he asks. He's like a broken record. All he's done since they arrived was ask, and all he was being told is that she was safe and that Stein was dealing with it. "Can I see her today?"

Black Star shrugs. He doesn't know what to say. "Maka…? Oh, uh. The girl… right." He clears his throat, buying time. "You'll have to ask Professor Stein or Nygus about that. I have no idea if she's awake yet or not. But, listen Soul, if she's infected… we can't have her endangering other people. You don't know what's going to happen. We gotta be careful with this, man. Even if she wakes up…"

"When," he growls and Black Star flinches.

"Even, erm, _when_ she wakes up. She's gonna have to have all sorts of tests before we can figure out if she's a carrier, or if she's gonna suddenly turn, or something." Black Star sighs. "Can we talk about something else? You're a little repetitive these days, buddy. I wanna hear about something cool."

Soul groans and his head falls back onto his pillow. " _Where_ is Professor Stein? I gotta go speak with that maniac," he cradles one of the pillows in his arms, feeling distinctly _uncool_. "I have to see her."

"Oh, well, he's probably just in the medical centre. He's pretty busy these days, always cooped up in his lab. He's working hard to find a cure, but…" Black Star trails off, giggling. "Even Marie can't manage to distract him, most days."

Soul opens his eyes a crack. "Man, this place _changed_." He pauses. "I mean, Stein and Marie…"

"I know, it's changed a lot since you left. You haven't seen the city yet. We got some serious hustle goin' here, buddy." Black Star stretches his muscular arms above his head, arrogant. "You should see the city sometime. It's… it's almost like what it was before."

"Almost?" Soul asks, a little sceptical.

"We're getting there," Black Star replies, confidently. "We've already set up five initial survivor's colonies around the states, and we're increasing that number," he boasts. "Me and Tsubaki have killed more zombies than any other weapon-partner team – how cool is that?" he grins.

"Five colonies…?" Soul mutters. "How many in each one?" he asks.

"Forty," Black Star smiles, still proud of himself.

Soul scowls. "Pretty small comeback, when you compare it to seven billion," he mutters, inexplicably angry. He crosses his arms over his chest.

Black Star falters and frowns at his friend. "That wasn't our fault, Soul."

"It's was the academy's responsibility."

There's a tense silence, and neither one of the men backs down. They've been down this road before; they've had this argument a thousand times and both of them know that it doesn't end happily. Soul occupies himself picking at his nails, trying to ignore the pitying look that Black Star is sending him with all his heart.

"Uh… look, anyway…" Black Star's brain tries to keep up with his mouth as he struggles to think of something to change the topic onto. "Are you going to finally come and see the others today?" he asks. "Everyone is dying to see you, you know. We all really missed you." He hesitates. "As privileged as Tsubaki and I feel, being your only visitors."

" _Everyone_ missed me, huh?" Soul ponders this, scratching his stubble. "Is that right?" he asks, alluding to something. "Ox, too?"

Black Star's gaze falls and his face does, too. "Ah, uh…" he mumbles. "Well, he's going to come around. Or I'm going to make him!" he booms suddenly, in his classic Black Star over-confident shout coupled with a sure gleam in his eye.

Soul shrugs. "Maybe…"

"Oh, come on, dude. You gotta come see the boys. You came back here for a reason, didn'tcha? You're telling me you didn't miss us at all?"

"I came here to make sure that Maka, Liz and Patty were safe," he replies staunchly, lowering his brow even further.

"Liz and Patty _love_ it here. They're getting along great. They're even going to meet Kid today, can you believe it? _I_ barely see the guy anymore, he's so busy." he bites his lip. "Speaking of, he's probably gonna come here today. He wanted to wait for you to recover a little, before he did."

"Good. I can tell him that I want to see Maka." Soul folds his arms. "

"Jeez, you never give an inch." Black Star huffs, blowing a tendril of bolt-blue hair from his face in annoyance. He thinks for a second, and then comes up with the perfect plan. A smirk appears on his features which sends a cold jolt running through Soul's veins. "If I sneak you in to see Maka… then you gotta come shoot a few baskets with me and Kilik today, okay?"

Soul sits up a little straighter in his bed. "Are you kidding? Done."

He didn't have to think about that one.


	4. Chapter 4

Black Star drags him through the old halls of the academy, where he used to work and study – the memories are pleasant, but also painful. They were so young, when they'd studied here. In his first year he'd lived at the academy itself, and in subsequent years opting to rent out an apartment with Black Star on the meagre pay check that Shibusen offered one-star students. It had been kind of fun, living with a buddy like that in their own spare - their cool bachelor pad.

When he was a fully-trained three-star weapon, he'd kept that same apartment – but alone, this time, because Black Star of course had moved in with Tsubaki.

A small and niggling part of him wants to revisit the place, but a larger part of him knows all too well that nothing good can come of revisiting the past. It was uncool to dwell on nostalgia. Soul had long been of the view that it was much better to keep moving forward.

Still, the huge; high-ceilinged hallways with the floods of light coming in through the roof windows are a welcome sight.

Soul has always appreciated decent architecture.

He follows Black Star, trying his best to look like someone who belongs at the academy. He closes his mouth, keeps his eyes straight forward.

Around him, new recruits and old recruits alike – some faces he vaguely recognises and many more that he doesn't – swarm past in their military-style uniforms. Several of them stop and stare at him; he must be a pretty unusual sight in himself, he admits. He's put on weight in the past five days, but he's still not been eating properly.

It was difficult to adjust to proper food after you'd been figuratively starving for the better part of a year.

On top of that, he's an albino. He's got red eyes. He's following Black Star – a pretty high-up authority around here, if he himself is to be believed (Soul is sceptical). It's only natural that people would be curious as to who he is, that makes sense.

It doesn't mean he likes the attention anymore, though.

He puts up his hood and shoves his hands in the pockets as deep as they will go, avoiding any eye contact at all.

"Chill out, man," Black Star raises an eyebrow at him. "You're with me. Nobody's gonna give you trouble!" he exclaims, clearly proud of himself as he jabs a big happy thumb in his own direction.

Soul rolls his eyes but doesn't correct him. "Can we hurry up?" he mutters, embarrassed. The less his face is seen around these halls, the better.

He knows what his reputation is like, and it's not pretty.

They keep walking, but luck is clearly not on Soul's side today, because he hears his name in an unsettlingly familiar voice.

" _Soul Eater Evans._ They told me that you'd come back but I had to see it to believe it! That _can't_ be you!" he hears in a singsong tone. He looks up and spots a very heavily-pregnant Marie Mjolnir. He blinks twice, one down at her stomach, confused.

"Marie," he tries for a detached smile, instead getting pulled into a giant hug against his will. Which is awkward in itself, considering how very pregnant she is.

He can't help but stare. She notices and smiles mirthfully. "I know, I know! Six months," she informs him. "I know Franken and I seem too old to be having children, but we're only in our late thirties and… well, I just always wanted one!" she admits with a hearty laugh. "Franken needed a little more persuading, but I've always been good at that," she smiles with a wink, cracking her knuckles. "It's wonderful to see you out and about, Soul. I've heard that you're recovering nicely. And I met your little _friends_ today!"

"You met Maka?" he asks, his ears pricking up.

Marie frowns. "I think their names were Elizabeth and Patricia? Charming girls, I'm sure. A little scary, one of them. Kid has taken a particular liking to them – but you know how he is. A little compulsive, when he gets fixated on something."

"A little!" Black Star chortles, to which Soul growls in annoyance.

"Marie, I need to see Maka," he cuts right to the point.

"Maka…?" she frowns. "She's the other girl? The one who was brought in the ICU?"

Soul and Black Star lock eyes. That was the first that either of them had heard about any ICU. Marie's look of concern matches his mood. "I think Franken has it under control. She's in quarantine," Marie explains, eyes flitting between the boys. "Is that here you're heading now?"

Soul clenches his fists. "I _have_ to see her," he says clumsily, his emotion getting in the way of speaking properly. "I have to."

Black Star makes a face and shrugs. "Sorry, Miss Marie. Soul's being Soul," he says with a barked laugh.

Soul doesn't reciprocate, instead stomping away from the conversation and towards the medical centre. Black Star says a quick goodbye to their old professor and yells after his friend. "Hey, man! Wait up!" he jogs in the same direction, reaching Soul's side. "Dude, you just totally blew off Miss Marie. Uncool, even for _you_ , emo boy!"

Soul's anger inexplicably rises in his chest, reaching a fever pitch - and he shoves Black Star away from him. Admittedly, Soul is pretty weak compared to his former self right now. He still takes Black Star by surprise, and the blue-haired goon stumbles backwards a few paces; in shock. "Would you _stop_ acting like everything is fine?" he spits. "I don't want to be here. I'm waiting around to make sure that Maka is okay, and then I'm leaving first thing." He crossed his arms. "Just… quit messing around, yeah?"

Black Star raises his arms defensively, electing rather wisely not to say anything else, at least until they round the corner, reaching the door and sign for the infirmary.

They simultaneously pause for a moment before heading in, and Black Star looks at Soul curiously. "You sure about this?"

"Yeah, man."

He pushes open the heavy doors and they skirt down the hallway together. Quickly, quietly. They walk on their toes, so that others don't pay too much attention to them – they're not technically supposed to be here right now.

Soul spots it first, on his left. "There," he points to a door with a wired window. The sign on it reads 'Quarantine – no authorized entry' in Stein's familiar doctor's scrawl. A quick peek through the small boxed window reveals that he's right.

Maka lies unconsciously in a white room, in a white bed. Attached to her arm is an intravenous drip and several monitoring machines which beep periodically.

He stares for a few seconds, waiting for something to happen. Any sign, a movement, _anything_. When nothing happens, he fingers the doorknob and slowly turns it a crack, gauging how loud the sound is.

"You're gonna go in?" Black Star looks around cautiously as his friend pushes the door to the room ajar. "For definite?"

"Keep watch, okay? I have to…" he trails off as he opens the door fully and gets a proper look at her. "I have to do this."

Black raises his hands up, shrugging. "I'll keep watch," he replies warily.

* * *

She's so peaceful, like this.

She's looking healthier, too. He accredits that mostly to the IV drip – they're probably pumping her full of nutrients, water and medicine right now.

But… why isn't she awake…?

He reaches down and pushes a little bit of her long, sandy hair out of her face. How is it he never noticed how long her hair is? She always had it up before, but it's down now. It frames her face, falling flat against her shoulders and chest.

"Maka…" he says in a low voice. His voice betrays him, coming out all strained and lumpy. "I'm sorry," he says simply. "I'm sorry that I put you here."

It's not enough. He needs her to hear this, to tell him that's she's fine. To tell him it's okay, and that he didn't do anything wrong.

The door clicks opening, pulling him out from his strange reverie, but it's not Black Star. In the door frame stands a formidable-looking individual.

A tall, dark man. Thin; lanky, even. Dressed in a full, three-piece suit adorned with white stripe detail. His fingers are covered with grey skull-rings, his fingertips touching one another with perfect symmetry as he creates a cage with his hands.

His face; tired, exhausted even. Large bags shadow his sunken-in eyes, and his hair falls flatly against his head.

Still, when he sees Soul, he drags up a smile on that tired old face. "Soul," he utters, his voice ever with that air of formality about it. "It's good to see you, old friend."

"Kid," Soul replies, unable to keep the look of surprise from his face.

He looks so… old. Soul can hardly believe that this is the same boy that graduated in the same class as him at the academy all those years ago.

"We've a lot to discuss. Would you mind following me to my office?" he asks. His tone is polite, but there's something underlyingly sinister in it. Soul has the distinct feeling that he's being politely told, not asked.

"I just wanted to see…" he trails off, gesticulating towards Maka in the bed, but Kid simply smiles.

"We'll get to that, in time."

That _definitely_ meant that Soul had no choice in the matter.


	5. Chapter 5

**TW: brief mention of suicide**

* * *

Kid's office smells like the strange dichotomy of old leather mingled in with fresh lemon disinfectant spray.

At first, it looks like the office of some sort of legal firm, or something. It's all leather chairs and fashionable mahogany shelves covered in ancient tomes. There are even two purple vases, just to complete the look.

Except it's hard not to notice it's quirks: for example, it doesn't go unnoticed by Soul that if you stand exactly at the entrance, and draw a mental line down the very centre – the organisation of the furniture, décor and even the books matches exactly that of the right side. Down to every detail.

Perfectly symmetrical.

"Your office is psychotic, have I ever told you that?" Soul says, deliberately standing just to one side. Perfection didn't sit well with him.

"Yes," Kid smiles. "Many times."

Soul shudders visibly, opting not to say anything else on the subject. "So, uh," he starts awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. "W-what did you want?" he fidgets with his hands.

"You never told me you were leaving." Kid cuts straight to it.

Soul sighs. "C'mon, Kid, don't you have bigger fish to fry?"

"You should've told me."

Soul grimaces. Clearly Kid has been holding onto this grudge for a little while. "Look, man. I didn't even tell Black Star. Don't take it personally."

Kid fingers the edge of his desk with both hands, tapping them in a pensive rhythm. In contrast, Soul's fingers nervously play a symphony inside his pockets, against his leg.

A nervous habit from childhood that he'd never managed to kick.

"Are you going to stay?" Kid asks, after a little while.

Soul shakes his head. "No." he says bluntly, not even pretending. "I… I can't, Kid. Not after everything that went down with Kim. It's…" he trails off, losing his words.

"I understand," Kid nods. "I'm not some sort of monster, you know," his face breaks its mask-like expression and adopts one of sympathy. "I don't blame you for leaving. It was the best course of action for you to take, in my opinion."

Soul frowns, confused. "B-but-"

Kid sighs, like he's annoyed. He frustratedly brushes a single out-of-place from his face. "You're a good friend, Soul. But Death knows you weren't any use to the academy in the state you were in. I was hoping that you'd leave for a little while, just to collect yourself, but after six months passed… well, we didn't expect you see you again, let's put it that way."

Soul barks a laugh. "I'm not that easy to kill."

Kid raises his eyebrows. "Is that so?" he asks, curiously. He's referring to that fact that Soul was found literally dying in the Nevada desert, of course. "Well, that aside. I certainly didn't expect you to return with two other weapons in tow, and a human."

Soul shrugs. "It was a coincidence."

"Anyone would think that you were a recruiter for the academy, with all this sudden talent." Kid comments wryly. "Elizabeth and Patty are excellent weapons. They lack any formal training, but they are certainly very skilled. I've even considered training them up for my own use, as my personal weapons."

Soul's surprised. "No shit… really?"

"Sister weapons? Matching twin guns?" Kid raises an eyebrow, something close to a grin appearing on his features. "You can see the appeal, from my point of view, surely?"

Soul laughs. "You haven't changed too much, then."

Kid hesitates before answering, and somehow his reaction creates a somber tone in the room again. "We've all changed, Soul," he pauses. "Even you."

Soul's fingers keeping twisting and playing that symphony in his pocket, but he doesn't say anything in return. He bites on his lip and narrows his eyes. "About Maka."

"Oh, yes," Kid nods in recognition. "Your human friend in the hospital. She was in quite a bad state when we picked her up, I hear. I wouldn't worry, Professor Stein can work nothing short of miracles when he wants to."

Soul's mouth turns downwards at the mere mention of his name. "Why is she unconscious?"

Kid nods. "I'm not the person to ask, ideally. Professor Stein will have all the answers for you. But I have been told this: she's been infected with NSISCIS-2. Professor Stein put her in a medically induced coma to prevent her full transition. As it stands… she's in stasis. We don't know for sure how the virus has infected her body, but as I understand it, Professor Stein is busy running tests as we speak."

Soul's brows knit just before his head falls into his hands. "Christ…" he mutters.

"Is everything alright? Are you close with her?"

"You could say that, I guess. I've only known her a few months. I just," Soul struggles to put his thoughts into words. "It was my fault, that she got the infection. I didn't realise that my blade…"

"You didn't know. How could you? Even _we_ didn't know that weapons were carriers for the disease until this happened," Kid rationalises. "You weren't to know. And the fact that we know this now is sure to be invaluable information for our medical team." He pauses. "I should be thanking you."

"Don't." Soul spits out, angry. "She's sick because of me. I wasn't careful enough."

"Why not?"

Soul clenches his teeth together. "I had given up."

"And now?"

"Now… now, I don't know."

"I see…" Kid replies. Soul never knew what he was thinking – ironically enough, as most people tended to have that complaint about Soul.

Fortunately, they were both adept at reading rather heavy-handed subtext.

There's another long pause.

"When can I expect you to leave again?"

"I'm going to stay until Maka wakes up. I need to know she's going to be okay. I need to say goodbye to her."

Kid blinks in surprise. "Your friends and colleagues don't deserve a goodbye, but this girl does? What makes her so special?"

Soul scowls as Kid puts words into his mouth. He leans back in his chair, trying to contemplate how best to answer this heavy question. "It's not like that, Kid. When I left here the first time… I had given up on everything, I told you. It was like that for a long time. I didn't want to say goodbye, because – well, I didn't know _what_ I was going to do," he says carefully.

Kid nods, fascinated. "You were thinking about killing you-"

"I don't know, alright? I can barely remember, now. If you remember, I was kind of drinking a lot, at the time…"

Kid's face contains a barely concealed knowing smile. "Yes, I do remember, actually."

"Well, when I met Maka, she was in the same condition. She had been on her own for so long that she was starting to crack. I never even told her this, but… we found each other at the right time," he finishes. "And things are different, this time around. I'm leaving again. But not because I need to. Because I want to."

Kid nods, like he doesn't quite agree, but he at least understands. Soul feels a pang of gratitude towards his former boss, and current friend. "Soul," he places a hand on the other boy's shoulder. "I hope that she's okay," he says sincerely. "And I'm very glad that you are doing better."

Soul has to fight the urge to shrug off the hand. "I should probably go and see Professor Stein. I want to make sure that maniac is in line. I don't trust him."

" _Nobody_ should fully trust Dr. Stein. He's a genius, but he's frightfully unstable. We're just lucky that Marie has the ability to ground him in reality." Kid replies.

They're agreed on that, at least.


	6. Chapter 6

Maka's eyes flit open, waking up in a strange and somehow unusual bed. It takes her a few seconds to clock her surroundings, gathering her thoughts and memories together - and when she does, she understands that she's in a strange and unknown place. The room is all white, and the smell of disinfectant assaults her nose.

She reaches up to scratch her head but can't; something's stopping her. Something wrapped around her wrists.

"What the…?" she wonders, pulling at her arms again.

Is she… _tied up_?

She breaks into a cold sweat.

"Hello?" she calls, her voice trembling and trepidatious. "Hello?" she tries again, to no avail. "Where the hell am I?!" Her voice so scared and broken, she can hardly recognize it. "Soul? _Soul!_ " she calls again, but she's met with nothing but the fragmented sound of her own voice bouncing from the walls back at her.

She stares at the mirror on the wall at herself, confused. It's an odd juxtaposition to take in: she's become this wild, feral girl, with her long brown hair that hadn't had a proper haircut in years. If she could reach her face, she would have tucked her hair behind her ears. Her nails; dirty and bitten down to their base. Her clothes are dirty, old and ratty. Her body, emaciated and infected.

And she's lying in this pristine hospital bed, this room looking like nothing's changed in the last three years.

It's been a long time since she really looked in the mirror and saw herself.

She can't stop staring. It's almost as if she stops looking at herself, she'll stop existing, somehow. Like she's so fragile that all it takes is for her to look away once and she'll drift out the window in the breeze like a feather.

The silence gets broken by the door of their hospital room slowly opening, somebody stepping through.

Maka's on guard immediately, her eyes wide and her stance defensive. As defensive as it could be, anyway, considering that both her arms chained up to the bedpost behind her.

The man who walks in is one she doesn't recognise, someone she's never seen before. He's much older than her – maybe sixties? – and he's got white hair, like Soul. He's wearing a white lab coat which looks as though someone ripped it to shreds and then decided to sew it back up together.

But the thing that she can't get over is that he's got a giant screw sticking out of his head, and he just keeps twisting at it – staring at her with crazed eyes through those thick glasses of his.

"Who are you," she demands, her voice coming out in practically a hiss. "Where's Soul?"

"Maka Albarn," the voice comes back, low and silken. He's well-spoken, but there's a quality to his voice that sounds ever so slightly unhinged. "It's lovely to meet you at last. I've heard so much about you," he pauses. "My name is Professor Stein."

Maka's body is cringing away so hard in terror, she's surprised that she's not cracking the drywall behind her. "How do you know my name?"

She can't remember even telling Soul her name. Let alone this creep.

He just smiles. "I know more about you than just your name," he says, equally cryptically. "I'm excited to talk to you some more."

Her eyes widen and she screams out loud. "HELP!" she yells out. " _HELP_!"

"There's no need for that, Maka," the Professor frowns and tuts. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm… fascinated by you."

She doesn't believe that for a second. Not with that giant… screw sticking out of his brain. He looks insane.

She lets out a gasp as the large man takes a step towards her, holding something in his hand. When he unfurls it, she sees that it's a big syringe full of some sort of liquid.

"Get _away_ from me!" she screams, struggling against her restraints, hard. She can feel some give, she's not sure, but she keeps pulling.

"Now, now…" the doctor says calmly, inching closer still.

At that second, the door swings open and Maka sees a tall, dark-haired man appear in the frame. "Who the fuck are you people?!" she yells desperately at them, lashing out with her feet.

The new man steps aside and Soul appears behind him, in tow.

"Soul!" she yells out. Her cold sweat cracks a bit.

Soul's eyes widen as he sees her and he rushes to her side. "Maka! You're awake!" he exclaims. She just pushes him away.

"Yo-you have to get out of here!" she yells. "These guys are insane!"

Soul shakes his head, and glances over at the dark-haired man. "Maka… this is Professor Stein, and Death the Kid." He pauses. "And, uh. You're not entirely wrong."

She shakes her head and cringes further away from Soul, her hair flying in her face. "N-no," she begs. "Soul, I'm… my arms…" she kicks her blanket from her torso and reveals that her wrists are being chained to the bed. "Help," she says, in a whimper.

"Jesus, Stein, you tied her up?" Soul growls. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he takes a step towards the professor but Kid stops him with a hand to the shoulder.

"I told them to, Soul." Kid explains. "Professor Stein had explained to me that Maka was exposed to the virus. We couldn't be sure if she posed a threat to the academy."

Soul's face hardens and he relaxes, shoving Kid's hand off from him. "Then let her go, now. She's not a threat."

Kid coughs, and glances at the doctor. Maka's eyes flit fearfully between all three of them as they exchange heavy, silent subtext.

"Doctor. Your results?"

Stein's glasses glint with the glow of the light. It makes him look deranged, Maka notes. Not that he needed much help in that department. He pushes the aforementioned glasses up his face to answer. "Of course, Kid," he clears his throat. "It appears that Maka was infected with the virus."

One, two, three, sets of lungs holding air in this room.

"W-what?" Maka whispers, clutching her shirt, terrified.

"No…" Soul lets out a low moan.

"Continue, doctor," Kid urges.

The professor smiles. "However, this is no longer the case. She appears to have some degree of natural immunity to the virus."

"So, she's okay? She's going to be okay?" Soul demands.

"It's hard to say, for sure. She fought it off, this time. However, being half-weapon… she doesn't have the level of immunity that you have, Soul. Or the level that any of the other weapons here possess," Stein pushes his glasses up his face again, glancing down at his patient. "A most interesting case indeed."

Soul growls. "Stay the fuck away from her, creep,"

"H-half weapon? I'm half weapon? What the hell does that even mean?"

" _Now_ , Soul." Kid tuts, ever the diplomat. "Professor Stein has taken good care of your friend. We should be thanking him."

Stein smiles even wider, and Soul has the sinking feeling that he's not finished. His suspicions are confirmed when Stein opens his mouth to speak again: "Don't thank me. You've been very fortunate this time, Maka _Albarn_. You ought to be more careful next time."

Kid smiles politely at the doctor.

"Wait, wait," Soul frowns, backtracking. "How did you know her last name? I never told you her last name."

Stein's smile just keeps getting wider and wider, until it's almost too big for his face. "I must say, I was very excited to see these results. Very excited _indeed_ ," he licks his lips. "Kid, Soul… we are in the presence of a DWMA legend. Ms. Albarn shares the same blood of my _greatest ever_ experiment."

One, two, three confused faces. Only Kid's face begins to morph into one of understanding and the doctor lets out a loud, chortling laugh which practically curdles Maka's blood.

"Spit it out, freak," Soul demands.

"Don't you see what I am saying?" Stein pauses, savouring the moment. "You friend Maka shares 50% of her DNA with the late Lord Death's primary weapon, Deathscythe," he pauses. "She's his daughter."

There's a brief stunned silence.

"You're Spirit and Kami's daughter?" Kid asks. "Really?" he does a double take. The look on his face is one of fascination, and Maka's blood runs cold again.

"M-my parents… how do you know my parent's names?" she scrambles away them again, a look of panic appearing on her face. "What is going on here?" she looks at Soul, who has a similarly surprised expression on his usually blank features.

"Uh," he starts, eloquently. "Look, Kid. I think this might be all a bit too much to spring on Maka right now. Can I speak with her in private for a minute?" he asks, placing his hands on Kid and physically steering him out of the room.

When they're alone, Maka's able to relax a little more. "Soul, you need to tell me what the hell is happening, right now. Why am I chained up? Who are these people? Are you part of this?" she demands.

Soul swallows thickly, unsure where to start

"Okay… well," he begins slowly. "This is Shibusen," he makes a gesture to all around him. "The academy, in the heart of the Nevada black rock desert. Do you remember being in the desert, at all…?"

She looks at him, terrified, her eyes shining. "No," she whispers, vehemently shaking her head.

"That's fine," he replies quickly, rushing to her side. "Don't worry about it. Just tell me the last thing you remember, and then I'll know where we can start."

Soul struggles against the long silence while she racks her brain to decide on the last thing she can remember. After a while, she nods introspectively, like it's come to her. "I think… I think the last thing was being in that hotel. With Liz and Patty…" she trails off, another thought dawning on her. "Oh God, Soul- where are Liz and Patty?!" she sits up again, concerned.

"Don't worry, Maka, they're fine. They're doing well."

"So why am I the only one whose chained up in a hospital bed?"

Soul scratches his stubble – almost a full beard, now – and thinks about the best way to phrase this. "Because you were sick."

"B-but now I'm fine?" she squeaks.

"Yes," Soul reassures her. "Now you're fine."

She pulls on her arm restraints again. "Then let me out," she demands, a little scowl adorning her features.

"Oh," Soul suddenly seems to remember that she's being held in place against her will, and rushes to her side again. "Of course," he frowns, standing back up. "Let me just…" he transforms his finger into a blade, ripping through the tough leather with relative ease. "There."

She immediately reaches up to her hair and scrapes it back from her face, wiggling her fingers and letting out a sigh of relief. "Thank you." She's about to launch into another conversation when she spies a mop of white hair and a grey screw through the window in the door frame. She narrows her eyes and her voice drops below a whisper. "I don't trust those guys, Soul," she says warningly. "Did you see his _head_?"

Soul twists his neck around to see what she's glaring at and a dry smile appears on his face. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he reaches up to awkwardly rub his neck. "Look, Professor Stein is not a threat. He's just… a little insane. You get used to it," he says, seeing the look on Maka's face and backtracking. "Okay, okay, I get it. We can go somewhere else," he offers her his hand and when she takes it, he helps her stand up from the bed.

She's wobbly on her feet and Soul has to catch her twice on the way to the door.

"You were out for five days," he says absently, eyeing her with a little concern as she rolls her eyes at him. "Just… take it a little carefully, okay?"

He lets her hang from his arm for support as they shuffle down the long, winding hallways which house the infirmary. Soul's aware that they're getting some strange looks, but Kid walks confidently behind them - which means that they don't get stopped by anybody.

They don't exactly look like they belong in a place like this. Two scrawny, undernourished, unshaven travellers - one still wearing dirty clothes.

"Here should be fine," Soul locates a door to one of the balconies which overlook the city and the lower parts of Shibusen's behemoth campus. "Let's sit out here, okay?"

Maka nods, her voice shaking. "Okay."

* * *

He talks for a long time. Longer than he's ever spoken before, or longer than she's ever heard him speak for, at least.

He starts at the beginning. The academy; Shibusen. How it started, how Lord Death founded it to train new weapons to ight for good, not evil. To rid the world of kishin eggs and full blown kishin. To create a place where weapons could feel like they belonged, a place where weapons and meisters weren't freaks of nature but forces for good.

Soul has this faraway look when he talks about Lord Death, speaks about him like he's some forgotten memory. A legend around the academy; loved by all. Only recently taken over from his position by a young and unready Kid Death, basically still a child at seventeen. A child who suddenly had to cope with being held responsible for the end of humanity.

Her father was Lord Death's personal weapon. Spirit Albarn, a demon scythe. In his youth, anyway, or so said Soul. After retiring early and having a child, Deathscythe had given up fighting for good and only travelled back to Nevada to offer essential counsel, or occasional to train new recruits. Other than that, he had mostly given up the gig.

Maka wonders aloud why her Papa hadn't told her about his ability, but Soul doesn't have any answers for her.

"I didn't know that he had a daughter," he admits. "I didn't even know his name, other than 'Deathscythe', until today." he pauses. "Maybe you should ask Professor Stein? Or Miss Marie? I think they knew him well."

Maka frowns and slumps over. "I just wish I had known. While he was still alive, I mean."

Soul doesn't know how to comfort her, so he doesn't say anything.

A small quiet period elapses, after which Maka asks him to continue.

He tells her about the academy's mission, killing kishin. How weapons and meisters work together to channel their abilities and attack more powerfully. She can't help but ask, because she's curious.

"Don't you have a meister?"

Soul shrugs. "Well, in theory I should. I never matched souls with anyone. Some people's souls like to be lonely."

She seems saddened by this, but doesn't question it further. "About the virus, then...?"

He talks about what he knows, which is principally that one of the Professor's most dangerous experiments - which he was performing in secret, without the permission of the academy or Kid - was stolen, somehow. It was - either accidentally or purposefully - used to essentially end the human race.

Maka doesn't get the feeling that Soul really blames _Kid_ for the virus that killed all their friends and family.

He very clearly blames the academy. He blames Professor Stein, to a degree. He blames his old friends and colleagues for not doing something sooner.

And of course, Maka knows that he blames himself most of all.

She wonders fleetingly if her father had blamed himself, too, and tears spring suddenly to her eyes as she realises that she'll never be able to speak to him about his career, about being a weapon. It's only a brief moment of sadness which takes her by surprise; she hadn't thought about her family in years.

"I'm sorry," he says, feeling helpless as he watches her cry. "Maka," he says softly.

She shakes her head and angrily wipes her eyes. "No. Don't be," she says with gritted teeth. "I'm really okay. It's just a lot to find out in one day, I guess." she laughs without any humor, and reaches up to wipe her eyes again. "I can't believe I was unconscious for five whole days," she forces herself to put on a cheerful face. "Did we end up going to the hot springs?" she asks, changing the subject.

Soul blinks, looking like a deer in headlights for a couple of seconds. "Uh... yeah. We did."

"I can't believe I don't remember it," she smiles wistfully. "I'd like to go back there, sometime."

Soul's stomach is in knots as he replies. "We could. If you wanted. The academy can be pretty strict with their rules, though," he points a thumb towards himself. "I was a three-star, before. I guess I have a little more freedom. If I ask Kid, I'm sure he wouldn't mind if we left..." Soul realises that he's getting ahead of himself and takes another look at Maka's gaunt frame. "Maybe after you've had a few more days to get properly fed, and recover." he amends, a little reluctantly.

"Fed...?" she asks, ears pricking up. "You mean, they can feed us?" she sits up straighter at the mere mention.

Soul scoffs. "How did you think that this place was running? The two of us combined are still about half the weight of the average soldier here," he jokes, his face still with that serious expression. "C'mon. We can go and eat."

Maka's stomach rumbles with rather serendipitous timing. "Oh, God, I can't wait to get some proper food in me," she says, a little giddy with the excitement.

Soul thinks of the nutrition 'packets' that were standard for feeding such a large population of soldiers at the academy and winces. " _Proper_ food might be too flattering a term..."

* * *

They sit on the edge of one of the smaller balconies; Soul's feet dangling off the edge as Maka keeps her legs crossed. The sun is beginning to set, tinting the sky a pretty pink as it edges down below the desert.

For the first time in years, Maka's not rushing to secure her house, or trying to find shelter, or worrying about whether she'll survive to see the morning.

She's just enjoying the sunset, albeit the moment is a little marred given that she's just had a huge truth bomb thrust on her. She's trying to keep it to the back of her mind, right now, focusing instead on the gorgeous colour of the sky; the feeling of the heat from Soul next to her. The smell of her freshly showered skin.

The view so breathtaking, it makes her a little tearful. Not wanting Soul to see her pathetically crying over something so minor as a sunset, she sniffs and looks away from him.

"Are you okay?" he notices, placing his bottle of water next to him on the other side. "I know that it all seems insane," he adds. "I can hardly believe it."

"Yeah, I'm fine," she rebuffs quickly, changing the topic. "I just," she struggles to think of the right words. "This is amazing," she breathes.

He snorts. "Really? I can't stand the graininess," he nods to the nutrient drink in Maka's hand. She blinks down at it for a second, confused. Then, she laughs.

"No, I mean the sunset." she waves the drink around in the air. "This stuff is _disgusting_."

"I know," he grimaces. "On both counts."

There's a silence.

"You're right, though. It _is_ super grainy. Do you ever get used to it?" she wrinkles up her nose and takes another sip through a large straw, making a face. "Why the hell is this a thing?"

Soul shrugs. "It's supposed to provide you with all the nutrients you need," he says, grabbing his own cup and holding it up to her. "Cheers!"

"Cheers!" she smiles, tapping their cups together and taking another small sip, which practically makes her gag.

Soul, conversely, holds his nose with one finger and with the other hand – proceeds to pour half the contents of the cup down his throat in one go. With a gulp, he keeps it down with a shudder and a groan. "Yikes," he coughs out in disgust.

"Ew!" Maka recoils away from him. "Why the hell would do you that?"

"It's the only way to do it, seriously." He grins. "Why prolong the misery?"

"Yuck," she says with derision, placing the cup on the ground with a plasticky noise against the chequered, tiled floor. "This is all so crazy, Soul," she changes the subject suddenly, running an errant hand through her messy hair. "My papa? Working _here_?" she frowns into the distance. "I just can't imagine it. I knew that he went to Nevada sometimes- I even had this fridge magnet from here that he brought back from... well, at the time I thought it was a business trip," she reminisces, even letting out a laugh. "I brought it to college with me."

Soul listens in silence.

"It's okay, here. It's not what I expected. It's much more organised. And there's food, and security," she admits. "I just can't get used to the idea of becoming institutionalised." She sighs. "I don't think I fit in here. I don't think I'm going to fit in." she looks into Soul's eyes, her voice very sad. "I can't join the colonies, because I'm not a human. And if I stay here, I'll have to become… one of you…" she sniffs. "I didn't even know I _was_ a weapon until today."

"We can leave," he says, quietly. "I did it once before."

"And go back to almost dying every day?" she scoffs, suddenly close to crying again. She reaches up to wipe her freshly formed tears on her sleeve and shakes her head violently. "I can't do that."

"We'll keep each other safe," he promises.

"No, Soul. I can't have that life anymore, I just can't."

Soul breaks their eye contact and his eyes meet the gravelly floor on the balcony just below them. He stares at a particular spot, hard. "What are you doing to do?"

She takes another sip of her nutrient drink. "I'm going to stay here... and train to be a proper weapon." she hesitates, adding: "If they'll let me." She then allows herself to smile. "I think it will help me feel close to my papa, again. And I know that he'd be proud of me."

"Are you sure it's what you want, though?" he has to ask, despite his better instincts. "Maka, we could-"

"Yes," she cuts him off, with a decisive nod. "I'm staying," she states firmly, and then after a brief pause, she wonders: "What about you?"

He hesitates – not because he's thinking, but because he doesn't now how to articulate what's been swirling around in his head for days. "Maka, I have to leave. I'm going to stay to make sure that you settle in and everything, but after that…"

She frowns, a little annoyed. "So, that's it? You're leaving? Just because of something that happened months ago?" she scoffs, shrugging like she didn't understand what the fuss was about. "Your friends seem fine with you. It's been a long time, and besides, it wasn't even your fault that girl died-"

"It was." he snaps at her before she can say another word. He's not sure what made him so stern, but he's a little taken aback - he hadn't realised that Maka had remembered that conversation. He barely remembers even telling her - it wasn't something he just let slip to anybody. There's an awkward period of silent that directly follows his angry statement, and he lowers his voice considerably. "Anyway, it's not just that," he bites his lip. "I also… I don't like the way they do things here. I'm just better off on my own."

Her annoyed frown turns into an offended scowl as she turns her head away from him. "Fine," she enunciates.

"No, Maka, I didn't mean _you_ , I just meant…"

"It's _fine_ , Soul," it's her turn to interrupt him, now. "I get it. You're a lone wolf. ' _Live alone, die alone_ ', right?" she says, her voice coming across a little mocking. Soul can tell she's angry, but she's not shouting. She seems defeated above anything else. An stressful hand run through her hair seems to calm her just a tiny bit, and she exhales all in one go. "Soul." she says.

"Yes?"

"Just, when you're leaving – promise me that you'll say goodbye? Please?" she asks, her voice quite small. "You saved my life. I want to see you off properly."

He blinks softly, suddenly melancholy all over. "Of course," he says softly.

The only sound is the sound of their breath, and the cold desert wind howling in the distance, until Maka lets out an exhalation of air through her nose, one that Soul recognises as a little laugh.

"You know, thinking about it - it's _so_ like my Papa to work at a weird place like this," she says, absently, letting the wind cool down her burning cheeks. "He was such an odd guy, sometimes.

"Do you miss him?" Soul asks, immediately feeling stupid for asking such an obvious question, but if Maka realises how dumb he sounds, she doesn't make any indication.

"All the time." she replies ever so softly, letting the tears roll down her cheeks now as she forgets to hide them from Soul. She smiles through them, though, as Soul's arm reaches out to comfort her and she finds herself nestling into his shoulder. If he notices that she's staining his t-shirt with tears, he doesn't say anything.

They resume staring off in the distance, but the sun has long since disappeared behind the endless desert, and all they can see is the moonlight glinting off the sand.

It's laughing at them.

* * *

**Not my best chapter, too many expositional roadbumps in one go. sorry guys lol**

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

Maka doesn't know what was in that nutrient-drink that Stein concocted, and perhaps she doesn't want to know, but it works a treat. In only a week, she feels her muscles getting stronger; her body regaining its strength – her hair feels shinier and her brain feels more active; more alive than it has in years.

She starts running each day and doing basic training with some of the new recruits. The adrenaline rush she gets from the exercise keeps her going, keeps her tired enough to sleep for over ten hours a night.

Professor Stein had been impressed at how quickly she had regained her strength – he had seen other survivors in similar states, he said, and they had taken months to return to their former selves.

She notices a change in Soul, too. He's stronger than before; visibly. His muscles begin to fill out his wiry frame as the weeks stretch into two, and he shaves his beard off. It's a jarring change at first – she had become quite used to his white stubble – but being clean shaven takes years off his face. He goes from twenty-nine to twenty-two in the short span of ten minutes.

They don't spend too much time together, in that first week. Maka finds herself settling into a comfortable daily routine – waking up in the room that had been assigned to her, eating breakfast, going on a run, doing exercise, lunch, and then meeting with the Professor to run some tests on her blood. He's been monitoring her cut, too. 

Soul seems to have an opposite schedule to her. He exercises late at night, instead choosing to spend the days catching up with old friends and spending long periods of time skulking around in the Shibusen basement. Maka has no idea what he does down there, but she doesn't think to ask.

He's come to visit her a few times in the last week or so, but the general trend is that she's too tired to hold much of a conversation.

During her appointment with Professor Stein, she manages to work up the courage to ask him a question that's been on her mind ever since her first night here.

She fiddles with a pencil holder on his desk, and blinks her large inquisitive olive eyes up at him, biting her lip. He seems to sense that she's on the edge of asking something, because he remains silent, waiting for her to speak.

"Professor," she starts, cautiously, as Stein takes the blood pressure measure from her forearm and folds it up carefully. "On the first day I was here, you told me about my father."

"What about Spirit?"

Maka fiddles, staring down at the desk even more intensely. "You mentioned something about me having weapon blood," she approaches shyly. "Can I teach myself how to turn into a weapon? I want to learn, if I can. I want to be able to fight," she admits, a little reproachful.

Stein's glasses gleam with excitement as they reflect the light of the dim hospital bulb. "Really? So you've never used your weapon form before?"

"No," she admits. "I had no idea."

Professor Stein seems to think about this for a second or two, cocking his head to one side. "Interesting. Most weapons learn from an early age of their skill. Many weapons accidentally turn when feeling strong emotion, having not yet learned to control their powers," he shuffles a few papers around, a placid smile fixed to his face.

"R-really? So, does that mean that I'm not a weapon?"

"Well, it's the exception that proves the rule. I think it's possible that you have some latent ability," he pauses. "Perhaps you could learn from Soul? I wouldn't usually recommend Soul as a teacher, but…" Stein coughs. "I know that you two are particularly close. Shall I mention it to him next time I see him?" he asks, looking up curiously from his papers.

Maka shakes her head. "No, no. It's fine. I… I can ask him myself," she smiles. "I didn't realise that it was something that you could teach?"

Professor Stein hesitates. "It's not, generally. But if you do have some latent ability, it's possible that perhaps you have been suppressing it somehow, without realising. It's certainly interesting, and I'd like to look into it further, if you don't mind…" Stein pushes his glasses further up his nose in a scientific fashion and Maka nods.

"Of course." she agrees. "But, I… I had another question," she says slowly.

"Go ahead, Maka."

"I was just going to ask about my father," she clears her throat. "Soul explained to me that weapons need to be wielded by… technicians, in order to maximise their ability."

"That's right," Stein replies. "The souls of compatible weapons and meisters work together to deliver a stronger soul wavelength. In this way, a weapon can be seen as almost like the amp to the meister's guitar."

"So who was my father's partner?" she wonders. "You said that Papa was Lord Death's weapon, does that mean that Lord Death was his partner?"

Stein chuckles, his eyes a little mischievous. "Very good, yes, it does. Believe it or not, your father had a very compatible soul," he begins to explain. "That means that he was able to closely bond with a wide range of partners, which made him extremely useful to the academy." Stein continues. "Before Lord Death, your mother was his technician. She was one of the most talented that I've ever seen, before she gave it up to have you. I believe she did all sorts of groundbreaking work in East Asia before settling down with her family."

"My… my _mother_?" she blinks, surprised. "Wow. My mother didn't seem like the military type."

"Well," Stein waves a hand. "The academy wasn't always like this. It certainly wasn't like this back in Lord Death's day. It was much more like a school than anything else. It was much more relaxed – for example, uniform codes were not enforced at all. Students could come and go," the Professor shrugs. "Many students would have described the school as a refuge from families who could not accept that their children were weapons, or meisters." He pauses. "I'm sure Soul is in that category, also."

Maka absorbs this information, fascinated. "Really? Well, why is it so different now?" she wonders. "…is it because Kid took over?"

Stein nods. "Partly that. Kid runs a tight ship. He is obsessed with organisation and administrative perfection. Part of the change, though, was one of necessity." Stein says, adopting a more serious tone. "Repopulating the earth… it's not a small task," he points out.

"Is that the overall plan?"

"Well, I wouldn't phrase it so simplistically. But we do aim to identify survivors of the virus and rehabilitate them into society. I am sure that you have been informed that we are currently teaching the humans agriculture, weaponry and general defence tactics and introducing them into communes in places we have deemed fit and ready for human populations," Stein explains, slowly. "Do you understand?"

Maka nods, a small frown appearing on her face. "What about the weapons and meisters that end up here?"

"They work for us. We feed, train, and home them. In return, they help us rebuild."

Maka breaks his gaze, but doesn't ask any further questions. What he's saying makes sense in theory, but something about his words doesn't sit well with Maka. It implies to her that humans aren't seen as equals as weapons and meisters. She wonders silently what she would be classed as.

"Did you have any more questions?" Stein asks innocently, sensing her discomfort.

She shakes her head, no, and stands up to leave. "No."

"Well, if you think of anything, just pay me a visit. It's nice to have another inquisitive mind at the academy," Stein says with a smile on his face. "I can see that you're more intelligent than the average fare. I know you didn't get that trait from your father," he chuckles, walking her to the door.

Maka doesn't laugh. "Thank you, Professor. I'll see you on Thursday for my next checkup."

"I look forward to it."

As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, a series of violent shudders run through her whole body, as if she had been saving them up throughout their whole session.

* * *

"ARGH!" Maka yells. "I _cannot_ do this!" she stomps her foot on the ground as her outstretched arm in front of her torso doesn't not transform into anything except her arm.

Soul watches her tentatively. "It's okay," he says. "It's hard at first. Don't get annoyed," he says impatiently. He stands next to her and holds out his left forearm. "Do this."

She mimics him, stretching her arm out exactly like him.

"Now, close your eyes. Think about the blood in your arm. Think about the energy it holds," he tries to explain. "But don't just think about it. Really _feel_ it."

"Okay…" she closes her eyes and concentrates hard on the way her blood is pumping in her wrists.

"Okay. Just focus on that for a few minutes. Concentrate on the feeling in your chest," he says, trying very hard not to say the word 'soul'. He knows how it sounds, especially to a sceptic like Maka. He tries to keep his language biological and generalistic. "That's how it was taught to me."

"Okay, but I'm still not turning…" she says through her teeth.

"No, not yet. Just feel the energy force in your arm. I know it sounds dumb," he adds as a disclaimer, a little embarrassed. "Just stay with me."

She remains silent, feeling a little foolish as she holds out her arm.

"Okay, now I'm going to transform, okay?" he explains. "So, what I'm going to do is _channel_ that energy in order to block, or attack…" he trails off, thinking hard about his next words, and choosing them very carefully. "Maka, I want you to remember when we first met."

"Huh…?" she makes a noise, confused.

"I mean when you were getting attacked. _Before_ I met you."

She pauses. "Okay. I'm thinking about it," she bites her lip. "Is there a point to this?"

"Most weapons discover their power for the first time when they feel strong emotions. Sometimes it's anger. Fear is also common." He explains. "So, try and… _relive_ that moment, in your mind. If you can," he adds.

She sighs and does so, visualising the day that she had been saved by Soul. She tries to recreate every last feeling, every last visual, every sound – like when you have a nightmare so intense that you wake up. She concentrates very hard on it, simultaneously keeping her arm outstretched and trying to heed his previous advice.

"Maka…" he says. "Open your eyes."

She cracks her eyes open slowly. "It's not doing anything," she says quietly, in a murmur.

"Don't stop picturing it. Don't stop feeling your energy.," he warns. "Now, imagine transforming. Picture it in your mind, start from your elbow outwards" he instructs. As he says the words, his arm shifts into demon steel before his own eyes.

She does the same, feeling something begin to happen underneath her skin. It's almost like she'd shedding a layer of her skin off – she can hardly believe her eyes as slowly; weakly, her arm morphs into a long, curved white spike. "O-oh my _God_ …" she stutters out, freaking out a little.

"Hold it as long as you can," he tells her, but it's too late. Something about the physical sensation and the sight of it frightens her, and she feels it morphing back into soft skin before her eyes.

"Shit," she swears as her arm becomes an arm again, as quickly as she felt it turn into metal in the first place. "I lost it." She lowers her arm, running a hand through her hair. "I don't know what happened. I couldn't keep it like that for long," she explains. "It felt… wrong, somehow," she sighs.

"It's fine," he says, the corners of his mouth turning up. "You've got time to practice. You did well."

She bites her lip and sits down on the patch of ground that they've been standing on this whole time, her fingers merging with the soft grass. "I'm tired, now," she says, accommodating a big yawn as if to prove her point. "Jesus. That really took it out of me."

He chuckles, and sits down next to her. "It was awesome, though."

"Really?" she asks. "Do you really think so? It didn't really look anything like yours…"

"That's normal, I think," he shrugs. "And sometimes the blade can change over time. Mine used to be red and black, when I first came here. Now it's black and yellow. It's like anything, I guess," he lies back onto the grass and relaxes, feeling the sun on his face.

"Hey, Soul?" She looks round at him and crosses her legs. "How did you first find out that you were a weapon?" she probes. "If that's not too personal a question" she adds, just in case she's overstepped the mark a little. Sometimes Soul could be cagey about his past, so it was best to be on the safe side.

"Eh," he shrugs. "I was thirteen, at my parents' house. Practising a symphony," he cracks on eye open to look at her as he reminisces. "I forget which one. It's probably not important. My brother walked in, and told me that I was playing a certain part wrong." He coughs, hiding a smile. "I got so angry, I don't know why. The next thing I knew, my hands were little spikes driving into the keys. They got stuck, actually. It was a nightmare."

"Woah! That's crazy. What happened after that? How did your parents react?" she wonders.

"Wes helped me cover it up for a while," he admits. "My brother, Wes. But after I found out… things were different. I had a way to escape. I applied to Shibusen and when I got accepted, I packed up my things and I was out of there in a day flat. My father never even said goodbye to me. We still haven't spoken," he grimaces. "I suppose we never will," he scratches his head, not sure how to feel.

"So you were angry at your brother for criticising your piano? That's how you transformed for the very first time?" she giggles. "That's an anti-climax!" she lets her torso fall gracefully down into the grass beside him, still playing with it with her fingers. "I thought you were going to have some awesome story about how you beat up some guy who was threatening you."

"I wasn't angry at Wes, really. I think I was angry at _everything_. I was trapped in a life that I didn't fit into, and didn't want," he lowers his voice. "I know it sounds trivial."

Maka turns to look at him, but he's gazing thoughtfully at the sky. "Do you ever miss them? Your family, I mean?"

"No," he replies, bluntly. "I don't."

"O-oh," she stammers, a little surprised by his sharpness. "I'm sorry that you had a bad relationship with your family. I… didn't mean to pry." She explains, biting her lip. She tries to think of a way to change the subject. "I… uh, thanks for teaching me today!" she says brightly, trying to shift the mood to a positive one.

He cracks an eye open again to observe her. "No problem," he mutters. "You know, you don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

"Change the subject," he replies, sounding a little angry. "I don't mind telling _you_." he frowns. "Besides, I know all about your family, now. It's only fair."

"But you didn't seem like you really wanted to talk about it…" she wonders, confused. She tries to wind the conversation back in her head, tries to figure out where she went wrong and upset him.

He shrugs and lets out a frustrated sigh, unable to express his feelings. "Not really, no."

She doesn't quite know how to respond, so she shuts up and the space around them becomes simultaneously quiet, and louder than life. Without their conversation, Maka hears the trees rustling in the background; the birds chirping in them; the faint sound of the city bustle from a few miles away.

Instead of speaking, she silently reaches out the hand closest to him and allows her fingers to gently intertwine with his, slowly closing her grip until she's holding his hand.

He doesn't acknowledge her gesture in any way except to hold hers back. Maka feels her chest buzzing; fluttering – nerves, perhaps? She has no reason to be nervous, she thinks to herself.

It's funny, this man could literally eviscerate her with one swipe if he wanted to. He's seen him do it with zombies. Hell, her own bandaged arm is testament to that fact. Despite that, something draws her ever closer to him; something inside her feels safe – no, _complete_ even, when they're around each other.

She trusts him, completely.


	8. Chapter 8

They stay holding hands and lying on the grass for a some time, at least until the sun starts to set, painting the sky pink.

He's not sure what it is, but there's an eerily familiar feeling that comes with holding her hand. Something buzzing inside him; inside his soul. He can't quite place the feeling, it's almost like an electric; frenetic energy between them. He doesn't want to let go, he knows that much. For several reasons.

He stares hard at the grey city streets in the near distance for a long time, tracking the winding pavements with his eyes and wondering how much time has passed without either of them saying a word. He turns his head to look at Maka, who has her eyes closed and her chest moving up and down in slow, gentle breaths.

"Maka?" he says in a low voice, almost a whisper. "Are you awake?"

Her eyes flutter open in a hurry, and she smiles groggily at him. "Hey, Soul," Maka yawns, covering her mouth with her unoccupied hand. "How long have I been asleep for?"

"Over an hour, I think. The sun's getting low," he points out. "We should make a move, we can't stay out here past dark. There's a curfew."

She takes her hand out of his, and they both collectively feel a wave of embarrassment – suddenly having to confront the fact that they have been holding hands for an hour – and Maka rolls onto her side, pulling herself up and brushing off the grass from her legs. "I could pass out," she mentions absently, before launching into another expository yawn.

He chuckles. "Come on, let's walk back."

They walk side by side back up the small, grass slope to get back to the centre of the city.

She finds the silence heavy, but it doesn't seem to bother him too much. Soul was a man unfazed by awkward silences, it would seem. "Hey, Soul?" she asks, a thought occurring. "I was wondering. Don't you have a weapon partner? Everyone keeps talking about them. But I always see you training alone, and I just wondered if-" she starts, but Soul cuts her off midway through her sentence.

"No. I never soul bonded with any meister closely enough. I guess I have a pretty incompatible soul," he informs her, the words coming a little stilted. Seemingly to seem more relaxed, he stretches out his arms in front of him and cracks his knuckles satisfyingly. "You win some, you lose some."

"You have no partner?" she blinks. "That's kind of crazy. How did you learn to fight all by yourself, then?"

"With difficulty," he smirks. "It was a necessity. If I wanted to stay in the academy, I had to figure out how to be an autonomous weapon. It wasn't always fun – sometimes it was a real grind." He yawns. "Jesus, you've got me yawning now."

She laughs and hooks her arm around his. "Sorry, sorry. I'm so tired lately. I think it's all the extra exertion."

"You're asking a lot of questions today," he comments.

"Oh, sorry. Is it bothering you? I'm just curious about your life at the academy, that's all."

"It's fine," he says shortly. "Hey, do you want me to, uh, walk you back to your room?" he wonders as they round the corner on the approach to the academy and he blinks up at the large staircase. "Because these stairs are a real killer," he tells her with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes. "I know, right? Maybe that's why I'm so tired all the time, now. These damn steps!"

There's a moment of pause as they wait at the bottom, and Soul places an awkward hand on his neck. "Uh, you could. Crash at mine?" he offers, and then quickly adds: "I have a spare room. And a couch."

She smiles. "Sure thing. How far is it?"

He squints down at the city below. "Eh, five minutes if we run."

"Whose running?!"

He chuckles. "Alright, alright. _Ten_ minutes," he corrects himself. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you could beat me in a race these days. I've seen you on the track, it's pretty impressive," he comments, stretching his arms above his head so that his hands fall midway behind his back. "I can still probably bench more than you, though," he teases, a mischievous glint catching his eye.

She giggles, poking him on the bicep. "Yeah, where were you hiding these?" she laughs. "You'd better enjoy it while it lasts, though. Give me another week and I'll have you beat, I'm sure," she boasts, walking with her head a little higher.

"Cool. When that happens, you can carry me up the steps," he drawls sardonically.

"As if!"

Soul's place isn't quite what she expected, although she has no idea what she expected. It's dusty, very dusty. He seems a little embarrassed at some of the cobwebs lining the architrave – and even suppresses a blush.

"Sorry. I hadn't gotten around to cleaning properly," he apologises. "There was nobody here while I was away."

"I can't believe you get this fabulous apartment and I'm stuck, holed in a room the size of a box!" she says, mouth agape. "You even have two bedrooms?!"

Soul shrugs. "Weapons and partners usually share."

Something about the way he says that breaks her heart and she gives him a big smile. "Lucky you! All this space to yourself," she says positively. "I like your posters," she comments on the space above the couch, which is covered in layers and layers of what Maka recognises to be band posters. "Your favourite bands?"

"They were, I guess," he shrugs.

She plops herself down on the couch and looks up at him, pointing to a wooden acoustic guitar which is balanced in the corner of the room. "Can you play?"

"A little," he replies, abashed.

"Can you play some for me? Please?" she grins. "I really want to hear!"

He laughs. "No. I've heard your music taste! You called Bob Dylan rubbish once," he shakes his head. "I refuse to play some pop crap for your entertainment."

"You can play what you want. Please, Soul, I just want to hear!"

He scratches his head and thinks about it for a second. "No, I shouldn't. The people in the flat above and below are probably trying to sleep. We should keep it down," he says sensibly. "Maybe… maybe another time."

"Oh, are you saying that I'm invited back to your place again, then?" she teases. "My company not grating on you just yet?"

He snorts. "Maka, we spent _weeks_ travelling together. If your company was going to grate on me, it would have already happened."

She chooses to take this as a compliment and rolls her eyes. " _Wow_. High praise," she smirks. "Doesn't it feel like a whole other world? I can't believe it was only, what, three, four weeks ago that we were sleeping in the back of a truck, starving and unwashed," she reminisces. "I don't know how you're going to go back to it."

Soul's eyes flit down as he settles down on the couch next to Maka with a deep exhale as he sinks into the red fabric. "I'll manage."

Maka nestles her head into his shoulder. "It wasn't all bad, I guess. We had some good times," she admits. "Even after Patty and Liz joined along for the ride. I wonder what those girls are up to now? I haven't seen them since we arrived…" she trails off, thinking about those two.

Her words are still ringing in his head. _They had some good times._ The past tense makes his chest tight, and painful.

He misses her head when she lifts it off his shoulder, turning instead to face him directly. His mind flitters back that day in the hot springs, and he finds his hand idly reaching up to brush some hair behind her ear.

"Did you remember anything from the day before we arrived?" he asks, seemingly out of nowhere, shattering the mood a little.

She frowns and her face moves back a little. "Uh. No, I don't think so. Why do you ask?"

He nods. "No reason, I guess."

"Did… something happen?"

"No. Uh. Well, yeah," he chokes out. "We kissed, I guess."

She blinks, surprised, and her face slowly turns pink. "Oh, well, um. Sorry I don't remember, I guess," she stammers out. "Was… it bad?"

Soul chuckles at her embarrassment and shakes his head. "No. I just… I just thought that full disclosure was probably needed. I kinda hoped that you would remember."

She looks down at her lap, her cheeks still pinked. "Well, maybe it'll come to me," she bites her lip. "I feel like it's something I'd want to remember," she comments, shyly skirting around the topic.

He offers a brief, insincere smile, and then the frown settles back onto his features. "I could probably use a drink," he comments, standing up from the couch. "Want something?"

She reels from the sudden change in tone, and nods. "Um, sure. What do you have?"

His mouth twists into a grin. "Six month aged red wine?"

She nods, fondly remembering the first time that they drunk red wine together. "Hey, I wonder if this will be better than the stuff from that fancy house in Salt Lake… you remember?" she smiles at the memory of him falling asleep on the couch, and tiredly wonders if it'll happen again in reverse this time. "You _necked_ that back."

"Yeah, I remember," Soul pops the cork. "Fairly sure I broke all my wine glasses, so we'll have to drink this in tumblers."

"Classy!"

He takes one, two, sips – and makes a heinous face. "If I hadn't literally drunk rubbing alcohol a month ago, I would have said this was the world alcoholic beverage I have ever tasted."

Maka snorts back her wine with another memory, and accidentally begins to choke on the cheap wine as it sticks to the back of her throat. "Jesus," she hacks out. "It's poison."

He raises his eyebrows. "Does it taste _earthly_?" he teases her, remembering her mistake, the last time they had sat together on a couch, drinking wine. Very different circumstances.

"Yes," she laughs along. "Earthbound," she jokes absently, placing her glass down on the floor and using the small amount of dutch courage she's managed to gather together from a few small sips to look him in the eye and places both her hands on either one of his legs, just above the knee. "So, um. I was wondering," she starts.

"You do a lot of that," he replies, placing his own glass on the floor next to his feet. "Hit me."

"Well, uh." She bites her lips. "Maybe… you could try jogging my memory?"

"Which one?" he asks, innocently. She raises her eyebrows and her lips turn upwards into a pretty, implicative smile. Soul realises what she's referring to and he raises his brows in surprise. "Oh."

"What do you think?" she says, a little too confidently, because Soul's back away from her – he's not kissing her, like he's supposed to.

"Maka…" he says warningly.

She frowns and takes her hands from his legs. "What's wrong? I thought you said that we already kissed..." she says, confused. "I thought you wanted this."

He growls in frustration and rubs his jaw. "I already told you that I was leaving, and I know you're staying. There's no point… in starting anything," he informs her, crossing his arms across his chest defensively.

"Oh, come on. That is _so_ defeatist and you know it," she says, irritated and throwing her arms up in frustration. "Besides, a kiss is just a kiss," she argues, knowing as she says the words that she doesn't believe them.

He frowns. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"I… I don't know," he says, irritably, unable to eloquently express his feelings. Maka's equally as frustrated at his lack of communication, because she scowls at him.

"What? Trivialize it?" she wonders, barking at him. "Is that what you meant?"

"Yes."

They glare at one another for a second before Soul's expression cracks and softens. "I'm going to miss you, as it is." he lowers his voice.

She's taken aback. It wasn't often that Soul held his heart on his sleeve as openly as that, and it takes her so unawares that she forgets about being annoyed at him. "Really? You're going to miss my terrible taste in music?" she laughs. "My constant talking? My nerdiness?"

"Well, now that you list all those terrible things, maybe not," he says sarcastically, eye-rolling at her. "Idiot."

"I'm certainly going to miss your mood swings, aloof-bordering-on-rude mannerisms and terrible driving skills!" she retorts, a little haughty.

He holds his hands up defensively, chuckling lowly. "I get it, I get it."

They find the conversation lulling as they both turn to look into each other eyes again, and this time Maka finds herself reaching idly up to cradle Soul's face. "You're probably right, Soul. About it being a bad idea. Starting anything, when we know that we probably won't see each after you leave." She admits, quietly.

"Mm," he agrees wistfully, his eyes flittering down to her lips.

"The thing about that is… I kind of fundamentally disagree," she bites her lip, if only to provide him something to look at, while he's staring. If anything, the staring increases in ferocity and she smiles. "I think… I think life is short, and you should take happiness where you can find it. Even if you know it's going to end."

Sadly, she doesn't get to hear his rebuttal to her well-thought and reasonable argument, because in a split second, his lips are on hers – kissing her with such fervour and passion that she'd be hard-pressed to believe that just a minute ago, he was turning this down.

As that same feeling hits them both; the one they had felt earlier, when holding hands – Soul's hands wrap protectively around her waist as she presses him by the shoulders; her exigent need to be closer to him causing her to forget that their glasses of wine are still on the floor, and accidentally kicks one over with her foot.

She draws away with a jump. "Crap," she swears. "I'll clean it up."

Soul shakes his head. "No, I'll do it. Just stay here," he stands up and pads over to the kitchen, grabbing a cloth from under the basin and dabbing a little water onto it – taking a moment to revel once again in the glory that was having running tap water – and then pads back into the lounge to find red wine seeping through his floorboards, and Maka fast asleep on the couch.

He observes her for a second, almost laughing at the irony. And then, he realises that she might get chilly in the night and throws a blanket over her, kneeling down to gently place the cloth over the red wine spill.

He yawns, and harbours a fleeting feeling of pent-up frustration, before the feeling passes and he pads to his own bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

"You _did_ say that you would come and play with me, dude," Black Star points out in his familiar grating, scratchy, childlike tone. "Now is your chance to make good on your promise!" he points a finger in Soul's face, which he bats away.

Soul had literally just woken up four seconds ago, so he's hardly in the mood for Black Star of all people, first thing in the morning. " _Jesus_ , not this again," he groans. "I didn't realise that you were gonna come to my actual house," Soul yawns, groggy. "Isn't this an invasion of privacy?"

"I don't care!" Black Star laughs. "It's my right, as your best friend. You gotta pull yourself out of this weird slump, bro," he pushes past Soul's door frame and lets himself in, patting Soul on the back. "Just one game of bask-" he pauses, his eyes focusing on the sleeping lump on the couch. He lowers his voice drastically, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. He mouths almost silently, in shock: "Oh my _God_ , dude, there's somebody _sleeping_ on your couch!"

"Hm?" he responds lazily, turning to look and spying the lump that was Maka underneath a large blankets. Soul rolls his eyes at Black Star being a drama queen, again. "Yeah, I know," he massages his temples, not ready to deal with this kind of confrontation, especially not first thing in the morning. "It's Maka. She slept here last night," he explains. "It was… closer than walking back to the academy," he lies, figuring it's easier than trying to explain the truth. Hell, he's not even sure of the truth himself.

Black Star's expression turns from one of shellshock to one of excitement, and he lightly punches his friend on the arm. "Way to go, buddy!" he exclaims, only a modicum louder than before. "Score."

"Urgh, that's offensive coming from you," Soul mutters disparagingly. He looks down at himself, dressed in sweats and nothing else, and scratches the side of his torso. "…I'll need to get dressed."

Black Star nods, an excited beam still morphing his face into that of a puppy dog.

Soul raises his eyebrows. "Uh…" he starts. "Black Star, you'll have to leave. Unless you want to see in a state of undress."

Black Star blinks and seems to come to his senses, looking back at Soul with a sheepish grin. "Nothin' I haven't seen before, dude," he points out, but backs away all the same, standing just behind the door and grinning just before Soul shuts the door on him, elbowing his friend in his bony ribcage. "Just don't take too long, eh," he winks again.

Soul takes this as ample reason to slam the door in his face.

As soon as the door bangs shut, he winces with the noise and he hears Maka on the couch shuffle under her blankets.

"Ugh," she groans, waking up fully and taking in her surroundings. It takes her a second or two to remember where she is, but when she does, her heart flutters in her chest. "Crap! What time is it, Soul? I've got to get to training, Nygus will be waiting for me!" she scrambles out of bed, but Soul holds up his hand, stopping her in her tracks.

"Chill. It's six in the morning. You've got an hour." he yawns lazily. "At least, I'm _pretty_ sure that clock still works…"

"O-oh," she nestles back down, not reassured by his level of confidence. "Well, I should probably get going soon anyway…"

"Yeah, take your time," he tells her. "I'm going out to play ball with Black Star. Use the shower, raid the fridge. Whatever," he informs her. "You won't find much in the fridge, actually. Try the drawer next to the oven. I think I used to keep cans in there…" he frowns, trying to remember. Considering how close they were last night, he doesn't really have anything to say to her, so he settled with: "Uh, so. I'll… see you later?"

"Sure," she twists her mouth up into a smile, wondering why it's suddenly so awkward.

* * *

"That's crazy! So she's a _scythe_ type like you?" Black Star exclaims. "What a weird coincidence, don't you think? I mean, you bump into three girls while travelling around the country, and all three just happened to be weapons?" he asks. He elbows Soul with a wide grin on his face, wiggling one of his eyebrows. "You were spoilt for choice," he chortles.

Soul hadn't really thought about that. "Well, I guess it's a little weird. Although weapons are immune from the virus, and probably better at defending themselves than the average human," he points out. "So I guess… I guess most non-weapons are probably already dead, or infected."

"Or here already!" Black Star injects, optimistically.

"Yeah, or here," Soul adds, tentatively. "Actually," he slows his walking pace as they round the corner to the basketball case. "Can you be honest with me for a second, dude?" he asks, a little conspiratorially, looking round as he speaks.

Black Star's eyes widen at the secrecy and he nods like an excited Labrador. "Yeah, man, of course. What's up?"

"Well, it's just…" Soul narrows his eyes. "Look, I have to ask. As far as you know, did the academy send anyone to spy on me?"

The out-of-nowhere question makes Black Star frown. "Naw, man, I don't think they would do that – I mean, I don't think they would have done that and not told _me_ , anyway," he points a thumb to himself. "I'm the best secret-keeper in this place. I know everything about everyone!" he exclaims. "I'm basically the boss, when Kid's not around that is!"

Soul makes a noise of irritation, but ploughs on nonetheless. "Are you _sure_? Nothing? Dude, I just need to know. I can't… I can't have the academy watching me. I don't want that."

"What do you mean?" Black Star asks. "You're here. Why would they need to watch you?"

Soul realises that he's not told Black Star about his intentions, and he sighs. "For now, Star."

It goes over about as well as expected. "You're just gonna leave us again? That's so messed up, man," Black Star shakes his head, a frown appearing over his brow. "You're one of the best weapons we have. We can do so much with you. Imagine being in the field, you would do _great_ -"

"In the 'field'? What the hell does that even mean?!"

"It means, that we get to go out and fight zombies!" Black Star grins widely. "On the frontlines, ya know, enemy territory."

"What?" Soul stops his walking completely. "You mean, you guys intentionally go _looking_ for fight with those things?"

"Yeah," Black Star rolls his eyes, in a ' _duh'_ fashion. "Groups of weapons and meister teams take it in turns to go out on missions."

"…what's the mission objective?" Soul asks, incredulous.

"To kill as many as we can."

"But what's the point?" Soul has to ask. "It seems like a suicide mission, if you ask me."

"We have lost a few recruits along the way," he admits. "B-but the payoff is worth it. We get to keep sane killin' zombies, and we're slowly making the country more hospitable," he coughs. "And other groups, they go out and hunt for humans, rescue them. That's more boring work, admittedly…" he shrugs. "And then we organise colonies, dude. Set up farms and shit. Borders. Train the humans."

Soul rubs his face, taking this information in. "So if Maka was to… harness her weapon form, let's say. Successfully," he adds. "Would that mean that she would be sent out on these missions, then?"

"Yeah," Black Star laughs. "We always need spare blood."

A shiver runs through Soul's entire spine as Black Star's words come tumbling out. His toes curl in his shoes and he shakes his head. "What the fuck have they _done_ to you?"

Black Star's smile turns into a frown. "What do you mean? This is all Kid's plan, not mine."

"Kid? Kid is using new recruits as spare blood for idiot missions which stand no hope of eliminating an entire _planet_ of infected… _monsters_?" Soul shouts, his voice coming off coarse. He notices a gathering of blackbirds fly out of the trees near them in a flurry; startled by the sudden noise.

"Woah, man, why are you so angry? I thought you wanted us to rectify this. We're doing all we can. What the hell would you suggest?"

"And these… humans… you're rehabilitating. Do they get a choice? Where are you even _keeping_ them, before you move them to the colony?" he spits. "Jesus, I never should have brought Maka here. I knew there was something off about this place. All those grunts marching around the city, Stein acting super creepy…"

Black Star puts a hand on Soul's shoulder in a misguided attempt to calm his friend. "Look, I don't know the details, okay? I'm just a soldier. Albeit, a pretty high-up one… you know I'm a four-star, now?" he beams, creating a dichotomy with Soul's perpetual scowl. He coughs. "Ahem, er, anyway. You need to take some of this up with Stein, or Kid. I… I thought it was kind of a hokey plan at first, too. We all did."

Soul hesitates. "…so what happened?"

Black Star shrugs, and in that ever-prepubescent voice, he says admittedly; "We realised that we had no choice."

There's a brief silence, and Soul doesn't know what to say. He's never seen Black Star like this before; so subdued, and conciliatory. Equally, Black Star's never seen this side of Soul, this impassioned, this… anti-establishment.

They regard each other coolly for a little moment, and Black Star removes his hand from Soul's shoulder, realising his mistake. His puts his hands up, signalling his attempt at pacifism. "Let's… not talk about this, for now," he smiles, but it's fake. "You're my best friend, dude. I don't want things to get messed up," he pauses. "I… I _want_ to agree with you, man. I just don't see a reason _not_ to believe in Kid."

Soul nods, his whole face suddenly feeling like fire.

_Is this what it's come to? Black Star is the voice of reason?_

He sighs and tries to relax, easing some of the tension in his spinal cord.

"Why… did you think that the academy was spying on you?" Black Star asks a little hesitantly, wondering if the question is far enough removed from their argument, and Soul jolts a little, remembering his original point in questioning.

"Well, it's kind of a hunch," he starts to explain, his voice dropping down to a whisper once again. "And… and something Maka said to me, back when we first met. She said she saw a talking black cat," he starts, feeling a little stupid even saying this.

"So?" Black Star laughs. "She was probably hallucinating. It happens. Didn't you say she was on her own for a little while?"

"Yeah, I know," Soul admits. "But here's the thing. She told me that the cat told her its name... but she couldn't remember the name. I just can't help but think that it's not a coincidence, you know?" he thinks. "Maka still thinks it was some kind of fever dream. I never told her – I didn't want to freak her out. She's been exposed to so much so quickly…"

Black Star's mouth hangs agape and it's his turn to stop in his tracks. "Soul, are you sure? Are you _sure_ she said it was a black cat?" he pauses. "You think that maybe it was _Blair_?"

Soul nods in the affirmative and Black Star runs a stressed-out hand through his blue spikes, turning pale. "Jeez," he lets out. "Maybe… maybe I _don't_ know everything that happens in this place."


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, her usual hour of training feels easier than ever, and Maka seems to enjoy it more than ever. In fact, she's enjoying life at the academy just fine – it beat out starving and bouts of intense paranoia, anyway. It had been several weeks, but she still hadn't had much time to really explore, or introduce herself to anybody properly.

So when Stein tells her that he's happy with her progress, and that she can stop coming in for daily checkups, she's quite excited at the prospect of having a little more time on her hands.

"Once a week should suffice," he informs her, half obscured behind his giant clipboard. Maka wonders what he writes on that thing. Sometimes, she suspects that he's just doodling to himself. "You're doing well. You're acclimating to the, ahem, food we serve here," he sends her a dry look, insinuating that the so-called 'food' was anything but. "And your wound has cleared up most promisingly," he informs her, his eyes gleaming. "May I also take this time to congratulate you on the sutures you gave Mr. Evans?" he tells her. "I took a look at his injury. Very nice handiwork. You would do well with some tutelage..." he mutters the last part, something a little mischievous in his tone.

She sits up straighter and flashes him a grateful, if a little nervous, smile. "Thank you, doctor," she says, sincerely. "I really appreciate it."

He gives her strange look, like he might be analysing her somehow, and tilts his head forward in the slightest of nods. "How are you feeling, anyway?" he asks, slowly; curiously. "Mentally?"

She beams. "Mentally? I feel _great_ ," she emphasises. "Better than ever… or at least, a long time," she adds. She tries not to think about her strange tryst with Soul last night, wondering if that's why she's in such high spirits.

Stein nods. "That is normal," he tells her. "I imagine it's a result of the nutrients in the energy drinks," he informs her, with just the slightest of condescending smiles. "After all, it's been about three weeks since you have started taking it. That is usually when we…" he pauses, for effect. "…see the effects. Enjoy it while it lasts, that's my advice, Miss Albarn."

She narrows her eyes, the smile sliding right off her face. "What does that mean?"

"It means… well, in layman's terms – the nutrients in the drink are designed to induce rapid muscle restoration, and brain function. That is to say… you're making up for lost time."

"So?" she asks, not getting his point.

"We have found in the past, with other survivors, that once their brain function reaches its normal capacity, and they no longer have to worry about survival… that they begin to really process their emotions, for the first time."

She frowns. "Uh, what?"

"You may find that you are suddenly having to process the loss of loved ones, of your former life… in a way that you have not previously been able to."

She blinks, a few seconds passing as his words seem to seep into her mind and she registers his meaning. "Wait, so I'm going to suddenly _feel_ all the feelings I've been repressing for three years?" she snorts. "Jesus..."

He gives her a sort of apologetic nod. "It's not guaranteed, but it's a well-documented side effect of our treatments," he explains. "If you… need somebody to talk to, Nygus can offer exceptional counselling and Marie is very skilled in h-" he pauses suddenly, self-censoring as he talks. "…in _emotional_ healing, as it were," he corrects whatever he was about to say.

Maka nods. "I'll keep it in mind," she tells him. "Thanks, doc."

He opens the door for her. "Stay well, Miss Albarn," he advises.

She pauses in the door to turn back. "Oh, doctor – I had another question, actually," she remembers. "It's about my… weapon blood."

Stein glances up at her, his interest piqued. "Oh?"

"Soul and I have been practicing, but I wasn't having much luck. I did manage to turn my arm into a scythe for a split second, but then.. I don't know, it felt very strange. I couldn't hold it for long," she recounts, her voice taking on a far-away quality. "Do you have any advice? You're a weapon, aren't you?"

Professor Stein nods. "I am," he answers. "I must say, it's most unusual that you are having so much trouble. Most weapons will tell you that turning is the most natural thing in the world for them. Many I have taught first transformed by accident," he pushes his glasses up his nose, scientifically. "It is possible that despite having weapon blood… that you are not a natural weapon, Maka."

The use of her first name unnerves her. "W-what do you mean?"

"Far be it from me to dash your efforts at honing your weapon form – but there are cases in which somebody with weapon blood is just simply not naturally gifted at controlling that form," he explains. "Many go their entire lives and never find out."

Her face looks crestfallen. "So… you're saying that I should give up?" she asks, blatant disappointment in her tone of voice.

"I'm surprised that you are so deeply invested," he tells her frankly. "Considering that you had no idea that this way of life even existed, only a mere twenty-five days ago."

She sighs, a deep frown appearing on her forehead. "To be honest, I thought it would help me to feel close to my Papa," she reveals. "I miss him."

The professor nods in understanding. "I see," he replies, mysteriously, clicking his pen and scribbling something down on his clipboard. Maka yearns to know what he wrote down, but she resists the temptation to ask. "Well, I've been wrong before. Being wrong is part and parcel of the scientific method," he smiles placidly.

She doesn't reply, but purses her lips into a grim, determined line. "I'd better go…" she edges closer to the other side of the door frame, realising that she's been standing in it this whole time. "Sorry. I know you're busy."

"Any time, Miss Albarn," Stein tells her. "Oh – before you go," he seems to remember something, and Maka stops in her tracks. "You should be aware that there's a strict curfew in place, here at the academy. Only senior members of staff are allowed to be out of their rooms past ten o'clock," he sends her a glance. "I only warn you because Miss Marie told me she went to check on you last night to bring you some water – and found that you weren't in your room."

Maka opens her mouth to defend herself, but Stein jumps in first. "Nobody will cause trouble this time. But for future reference, you understand?" he asks. "I would hate to see you make such progress, only to make a silly mistake..."

She freezes.

_Why does that sound like a threat?_

Maka's throat feels tight. Nothing Professor Stein has said is new information, but something about the passive, low tone of his voice make the words sound threatening on his lips. "O-ok," she stammers, backing out of the door.

"You had better run along, Miss Albarn," he advises. "I have a lot of patients to get through, today."

She waits until she's out of the long infirmary hallway, and then she starts to run.

* * *

_Three knocks, just to mess with him._

_No… four. Four knocks or he'll never hear the end of it from Kid._

He knocks four times.

"Please come in," he hears a clipped voice come from the other side of the heavy, oaken door.

It doesn't creak like it used to, Soul notices. "Did you _oil_ your door?" he asks Kid incredulously, as he walks into the boss's office.

Kid sighs, and smiles tiredly. "Hello, Soul. Yes, I did. The creak was bothering me."

Soul bites his lip, refraining from calling into question Kid's sense of priority when there were literally people starving, and the world was running out of resources. "Fair enough," he says instead.

Kid rubs his temples. "What can I do for you?"

"Relax, Kid. Can't you take a day off?" Soul asks. "You're going to burn yourself out."

Kid smiles at the thought, and waves to Soul, offering him a seat in the centre of the room. "Please."

Soul decides to stay standing, so as not to diminish his power in the conversation. "I mean it, Kid. You look really tired. Surely this place runs itself these days?"

Kid nods. "Usually, it does run itself pretty smoothly. Rules are well-established. Food isn't in short supply, not anymore," he glances up at Soul. "Not like it was before you left."

Soul nods, shrugging over the comment. "So what's up?"

"I've been taking on some extra training, on the side," he explains. "Those two gun-types you picked up in Utah," he pauses. "They are proving to be a most valuable asset. I meant to offer you my thanks sooner, but as you said… I have been busy."

"Oh, you like 'em?" Soul grins. "Patty takes a little… getting used to. She's certainly intense."

Kid nods. "They lack discipline, but they are incredibly resilient," he pauses. "Did they ever tell you that they grew up on the streets of Brooklyn…?"

Soul nods. "We spent the entire journey from Salt Lake to here together," he chuckles. "They probably tell you their mother's favorite brand of banana bread," he points out.

"Ah, I see," Kid nods. He doesn't laugh, but then again, Soul's not surprised by it. Kid wasn't particularly known for his sense of humor, at least not these days. "Well, you should pay them a visit. The twins told me that they haven't seen you since that first week you came back."

Soul feels a pang of guilt. "Oh… I, uh…" his brain scrambles to think of a response. "I just hadn't really thought about it," he admits. "I've been kind of preoccupied, I guess. You know I don't feel comfortable being here, at the academy," Soul shifts the subject, and Kid changes the subject.

"Miss Marie tells me that Maka didn't sleep in her room last night," he says.

Soul scowls and shoves his hands in his pockets. "So?"

"So, am I to assume that she… slept at yours? Tsubaki tells me how close you two are," Kid comments. "I don't mean to pry."

"Then why are yo-"

"-we have rules here for a reason, Soul. We have a curfew. Maka is supposed to stay in her room, where we can account for her."

Soul's frown falls lower. "I was told that four-stars were allowed to break the rules," he points out, shrugging.

Kid purses his lips. "You _were_ a four-star, before you left us," he corrects. Soul totally ignores this. "And Maka was _never_ a four-star. She is new."

The two young men stare at each other in stalemate for a few seconds. Soul's expression is almost akin to a glare, if he were prone to such dramatic efforts.

"Come _on_ , Kid," Soul addresses his old boss quietly, his tone uncommonly sincere. "We're friends."

Kid is quiet for a time, too, and then his façade cracks. "Fine, fine," he tuts. "Soul. I can make an exception," he smiles, and for the first time since Soul's been back, he recognises the old Kid. "But only because we're friends," he adds.

"Really?"

"Yes. Everything I have is because of nepotism," he laughs, his mind flickering briefly to his father. He shakes the thought away, and addresses Soul with a friendly smile. "I am glad that you are… moving on, from everything that happened. With Kim."

Soul's eyes flicker down with guilt after Kid mentions the name and he shrugs. "Well, I had eventually. I doubt Ox will ever forgive me."

Kid shakes his head. "You're right, I doubt he ever will," he agrees, ever the straight-talker. "And I'm happy that you are happy, truly. Do whatever you want… within reason," Kid says leniently. "As long as it keeps you from drinking," he adds, with a little flicker of his brow. "Or leaving."

Soul's eyes fall even lower, and he doesn't attempt to reply. Suddenly the tone in the room becomes heavy, losing the light spirit it had had a few seconds prior.

Kid shuffles something around on his desk, creating white noise to fill the awkward silence, and reproachfully asks: "… _did_ you come in here to tell me you are leaving, then?"

Soul shakes his head. "No, but…" he pauses. "I just… I don't like what you're doing here, Kid. I don't like what's happened to this place," he admits, finally voicing the concerns that have been on his mind for weeks.

There's a pause. Soul waits for Kid to explain why he's wrong; why the academy is doing everything right - but it seems that after all these years, Kid is still capable of surprising him.

Instead of launching into a public relations campaign, he exhaustedly rests his chin on his hands; propping himself up with his elbows on the hard mahogany desk before him. A protracted sigh escapes his lips, before he mutters: "I know. Sometimes, I don't, either."

Soul takes a second, digesting Kid's seeming defeat. He narrows his eyes. "Kid, Black Star told me Shibusen is encouraging weapons and meister teams take it in turns to go out ' _in the field_ ' to use _his_ words, to fight zombies on the front lines."

"I wish you wouldn't call them zombies…" Kid sidelines, but Soul cuts through it.

"The _point_ , Kid," he warns.

Kid raises an eyebrow. "I don't that you don't necessarily agree with this, Soul, but we're trying to undo the damage that the magical world has wreaked on the earth. We're trying to eliminate the infected so the earth can be safe again-"

"Oh, is _that_ what it is?" Soul snaps. "What happened to trying to find a cure? You're just killing people who were unlucky enough to become infected?"

"We tried for years to find a cure, Soul, you were there. We _couldn't_ ," Kid explains. "And enough time has passed…"

"Oh, three measly years passed, so _fuck_ all those people, that's your approach? Really?" Soul's voice breaks in anger.

Kid shakes his head. " _You've_ killed the infected before, Soul."

"Yeah, I killed 'em. When they were a threat to my life – I think that's a little different, don't you?"

"Different than what?

"Than seeking them out. And inviting new recruits to do the same. Black Star referred to them as spare blood," Soul raises his voice a modicum as their conversation gets more heated. "Is that what you're teaching them, now?"

"I… I…" Kid stammers, unable to form a response in time.

"You're treating new recruits like…" he pauses, frustrated as he tries to think of the right words. "Like cannon fodder," he eventually chokes out.

"They need _training_. They need to be _organised_. We all do. If we all die, where does that leave the humans race?" Against his best efforts, Kid's voice raises in duality to Soul's.

"And why is it that you think _you_ control the human race? Black Star is referring to non-weapons as _humans_ ," Soul spits. "Humans! We're _all_ humans," his anger reaches a fever pitch now, his arm shifting dangerously into steel before Kid as he takes a step closer. "Even me," he points to his scythe with his flesh hand. "I'm human. I have no right or say in how to organise society. You force them into colonies, you give them arbitrary rules to follow, and now you're turning them into _soldiers_!" Soul throws his hands up in the air. "Jesus, even _Maka_ wants to be one, now," he mutters.

Kid's brows knit together and he eyes up Soul's scythe arm a little warily. He starts of tersely, carefully. He's a diplomat above all things, and diplomats don't shout to get their point across. "I am truly sorry that Maka's current disposition bothers you. I can see that you care about her. The _last_ thing I want is people volunteering to put themselves in danger," he starts. "But you have to understand, Soul. The reality of is that there is now a real threat out there that we must now join together to fight."

Soul rolls his eyes and steps back, turning his metal arm back into a human one. "Yeah, a threat that _we_ created."

Kid shakes his head. "You're wrong about two things, Soul." he says slowly. "Firstly, I am not a human. I am a Shinigami," he points out, for posterity rather than for any real reason. "And…unfortunately, the infected are no longer the biggest threat to our survival. It has become evident in the last few weeks that we – the academy - are facing a much larger threat," Kid coughs. "A… magical one."

Soul frowns. "What are you _talking_ about?" he scoffs.

"This is not a threat that _we_ created." Kid's voice comes slow and steady, like treacle. "This is a threat that _you_ created, Soul, when you failed to protect Kim Diehl's life."

_Wait… what?_

_Did Kid mean that… he couldn't mean…_

_Witches?_

Soul's chest thuds a little more dramatically, ice cold trickling into the veins on his wrist as he starts to cotton on to Kid's meaning. "Are you saying that…"

Kid nods, grimly. " _Nobody_ can find out about this, Soul. Only a handful of us know. If it gets out… well, I just don't know how I can continue to keep control over this place. All hell will break loose. Even Black Star doesn't know, just yet. Can I _trust_ you with this information, Soul?"

Soul sits down, a little dizzy from the sudden influx of news. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling the cold sweat on his forehead. "Y-yeah, of course…"

"Good. Now, do you have a minute? Let me explain, from the beginning…"


	11. Chapter 11

Soul stares at Kid for the longest time, after all is said and done. He drinks in the sight before him. His boss, usually so pristine and so collected, now sweating bullets. His hair is crumpled, his tie is askew. His eyes are like sunken black holes drilled into his pallid face.

He's waiting impatiently for Soul to speak, but Soul hasn't the faintest clue what to say. His instruction manual never covered this. Years of classes at Shibusen had failed to adequately prepare him for this confrontation.

He opens his mouth, forming wordless shapes which never quite make it to fruition. And then closes it again, self-censoring. He does this a handful of times, before he finally manages to speak some approximation of the English language.

"Kid…" he says eventually, after what feels like hours. "Kid, who knows about this?"

Kid's back hunches over and he stares down at his hands, the good grace to look a little ashamed. "Me. Professor Stein. Miss Marie," he pauses, thinking. "A handful of others... and now you, Soul."

"Not Black Star?" Soul questions.

"No," Kid admits. "He's… he's too volatile by half," he offers as an explanation, as Soul's temper begins to rise. "And obviously, I couldn't tell Tsubaki, because I knew it would get back to him."

"What about Ox?"

"Ox is high-strung, and not to mention... _dyspeptic_. I couldn't predict what his reaction would be, and… well, I just don't think he'd take too kindly to the news. Considering Kim's fate, after all."

Soul flinches at the mere name, and he runs an angry hand through his hair.

"Nygus _?"_ he continues his tirade of questioning.

"Nygus knows, I assume…" Kid frowns. "I assume that Professor Stein would have told her."

Soul slams an angry hand against the desk, making Kid jump. "Dammit, Kid, why not any of the other three-stars? Four-stars?" he pauses. "Why not _me_? Why didn't you tell _me_?" he demands, his temper reaching a fever pitch.

Kid's eyes widen in shock; he's never seen Soul this furious. "After what happened... with Kim, I didn't think you needed any more on your plate." he admits. "I… I was wrong. I should have told you."

"Correction: you should have told _everyone_ working for you!" Soul rants. "They have a right to know. They're innocent people who are, thanks to you, now in danger from a threat that they are _totally_ helpless against!" he shouts, his angry voice reverberating unpleasantly from Kid's office walls.

Kid's face falls dark. "Are you seriously suggesting I tell a group of scared, weak humans that they are in danger from a threat that they can't even _comprehend_? That they should just give up any effort to salvage what's left of humanity because a threat so all-powerful that they stand no hope of survival if it turns against them exists?" Kid scoffs as his lip turns up in distaste. "Spare me the moral indignation, Evans. You have _no idea_ what it takes to run an operation like the one Shibusen is operating."

"Oh, so it takes lying to _hundreds_ of people?"

" _Yes_." the syllable comes out through a clenched jaw.

Soul flinches at the coldness of Kid's response, and he grits out through his anger. "Why not at least tell the members of Shibusen, then? How can they mobilise if they don't know that they're even in danger?"

"They think they're mobilising against a large-scale attack from the infected."

"Don't you think that's a little different than being attacked by _witches_?" Soul retorts, sceptical to say the least.

Kid stands up suddenly, orchestrating a sudden power shift in the room. Kid is a few inches taller than Soul, and about ten times as charismatic. Suddenly, his souls aura around the room turns sinister. His voice deepens and Soul has no choice but to flinch away from it. "Do you think I wanted this? I didn't _ask_ my father to die and leave me in charge of Shibusen, Soul," he changes tack. "I didn't _ask_ for any of this," he continues. "And I didn't _ask_ for Kim to die, triggering a chain of events that would pit the entire witch's realm against Shibusen," he says pointedly, staring daggers at his old friend. "I don't _want_ to lie to my friends, to my colleagues. Do you think that beings me any joy?" he asks rhetorically, not waiting for an answer.

"Kid-"

" _No_..." he tears his gaze away, looking instead at the clock on the wall. "It doesn't matter what you think. It does not." He finishes, injecting his tone with a clinical edge. "I will do what it necessary to keep Shibusen productive. And when the time comes…" he dangles the preposition dramatically for a few seconds. "I expect _every_ single person alive to fight with us. For the sake of humanity."

Soul stares darkly up at him. "And what if I tell everyone what you've just told me?"

"You won't," he states, as if reeling off indisputable fact. "You are many things, Soul Evans. You have many talents, and that can't be overlooked. But you are not, nor will you ever be – capable of leading an insurrection against me. And if this gets out – it _will_ lead to an insurrection. I trust that much."

Soul shakes his head, still reeling. "Fine," he admits. "But how can you expect me to just stay here and sit tight with everything going on?"

Kid sighs, as they reach the crux of the conversation. "I don't," he admits. "That's partly why I told you. I know that you're leaving and I know it's just a matter of when," he says reluctantly. "And I _also_ know that all the information I have shared with you today will only speed up that eventuality."

Soul growls, but he doesn't disagree. "You're insane."

"Maybe so," Kid allows just a fraction of a smile onto his face. "But when it comes to it – I _know_ you will choose to fight with us, instead of against us," he pauses. "You owe us at least that much. After Kim."

Soul balls his fists. "You told me you didn't blame me for Kim," he mutters, in a growl.

"I don't, personally." Kid shrugs. "But there are some that do. And most of all, you blame yourself. Which makes you _extremely_ predictable," he hesitates, reaching the end of his usually very long patience. He clasps his hands together in finality. "Now, unless you have any other issues to raise with me…" he stands up again and gestures politely towards the door, as if their meeting had been about something bland, like finance, or dress codes.

Soul acquiesces, turning to leave. "Yeah," he quickly remembers. "As much as I think what you're doing is wrong…" he pauses. "I won't spread this around. But the least you can let me do is tell Maka," he explains. Kid nods, as if he expected as much, but Soul continues to explain. "I… brought her here. I think she should know the truth. And I… I hope that she comes with me, if I go. When I go," he corrects himself at the last minute.

"Understood." Kid nods agreeably. "You care about her, don't you?" he asks, when Soul steps foot outside the door frame.

"I do," he answers, his voice echoing the distant coldness that has been served to him for the duration of this conversation.

The heavy oak door swings shut behind him.

* * *

"God, I miss _sushi_ ," Liz comments, her slim, tanned body stretched out underneath the desert sun. It practically sizzles underneath the solar glare, but she doesn't mind. "Sushi is what I crave the most, from the old days," she wrinkles her nose. "Food-wise, anyway."

"Really?" Patty squeaks. "I miss those fat po'boys we used to steal from the cart on 365th, you remember? Oh, those were the days…"

"You _miss_ being a petty criminal?" Liz blinks in utter surprise. "Jesus." She fixes her shades.

"Do you not?"

"No! I miss when we were conning rich guys out of their money, those were the good ol' days, if memory serves," she smiles serenely. "You know, when we were actually smart enough to get good at being criminals," she sighs. "And I miss cold New York winters, and wearing big fluffy fur coats. And sushi. God, what I wouldn't give for a plate of Ebi Nigiri right now…"

"I miss when it was just the two of us."

Liz peeks at her sister from underneath her shades, privy to one of Patty's rare sweet moments. "I feel that, sister," she agrees. "Things were far less complicated, then."

"Do you like it here?" Patty asks. "I'm not sure."

"You're not?" Liz questions. "Doesn't it beat being scared all the time? Being surrounded by zombies?"

Patty shrugs. "Sure. But shooting zombies is fun."

"You're weird, lil' sis." Liz laughs. "I don't miss that at all. At least this way we're properly fed, even if it is with this gunk, and we get to wear proper clothes – even if they are just horrible military uniforms…"

Patty bites her lip. "It wasn't all bad," she points out. "Soul and Maka were nice."

"Yeah, and we haven't seen them once since we got here. In fact, all we've done since we've got here is train, train, train. I know we've got to get better if we're going to be Kid's weapons but don't they ever have _breaks_ here?" she groans. "This is the first day off I've had since we arrived and my legs are killing me."

Patty giggles. "I wonder how Soul and Maka are doing?"

Liz shrugs, as if she couldn't possible care. "Last I heard, Maka's out of the hospital and doing fine. And Soul is skulking around moping about something or rather, as is his forte," she shakes her head. "Man, people here really keep their mouths shut, don't they?" she changes the subject. "Nobody will tell me any gossip. I'm seriously having some kind of gossip withdrawal. Look!" she holds up a hand, joking. "I'm shaking! Even _Kid_ is hiding something, I'm sure of it."

Patty giggles. "We should do some digging, sis," she grins, elbowing her sister in her tanned stomach. "You know, break some rules?" she sticks her tongue out. "I need to know what the hell is up with this place. Plus… I want to see Soul and Maka again. I miss them," she pouts. "We could ask if Soul knows anything?"

Liz raises an eyebrow, her interest definitively piqued. "Well, it has been a _while_ since we really did anything that reminds me of the old days…" she says, a slow smile spreading across her face as she has an idea. "Hey, why don't we start with those dungeons? They're so creepy, and people go in and out of them but never say why…"

"Maybe it's ghosts!" Patty exclaims with a squeal, jumping up and down in excitement.

Liz rolls her eyes. "Well, _somethin'_ fishy is going on, anyway. And who better to get the bottom of it than a crack team of _bad-ass_ weapons?!" she grins. "Plus Maka, of course."

Patty giggles. "So tonight?"

"We'll gather the crew, see if they want in on a little dungeon spelunking," Liz nods with a confident smile, stretching out her knuckles with a satisfying crack and then falling back down against her sun chair. "But… first, sit down. I want to get some more sun. There's no sense in letting this primo tanning opportunity go to waste."

* * *

Her lungs are on fire. Her veins pump battery acid around her body. Her knees are in pain from the constant, repeated pressure she's putting on her patellas but _dammit_ if this isn't the release of a lifetime.

She keeps running. Every stride; every _thwack_ her trainers make against the cobblestones are a reminder of how far she's come. How much progress she's made in a few short weeks – thanks, of course, to Stein's miracle cure-all nutrient drink.

If it weren't so repulsive on the olfactory senses, she'd get addicted to the stuff.

She's gone from emaciated; a prisoner begging for food and shelter in her own body to this. Running. Exhausted; panting, her body screaming at her to stop but _euphoric_.

Running was like this for her. The more her body told her to stop the more her mind screamed at her to keep going, to just go a few more miles. Then in a few more miles, she'd reach the same conclusion.

It's just endorphins, Maka knows that. She's always been a big fan of that familiar dopamine rush; runner's high, whatever you called it. It's better; more beautiful; more natural than any drug, any food, any chemical.

She keeps going, keeps panting. Her feet are cramping in these cheap shoes, her toenails are rubbing against the outer rim. She's having to wipe layer after layer of heady sweat from her brow – the Nevada sun was relentless.

She's missed this.

Normalcy, that's probably what you'd call it.

Routine.

Social interaction.

A purpose; a goal to work towards.

When you're alone for so long, you really start to appreciate the small things. The things you took for granted before, the things that humans start to go crazy without.

The image of a hallucinated black cat pops into her mind and she pushes it to the side in a heartbeat. No. Those days are gone. She's here, now. She's at the academy, and she's finally found a place where she can be herself again.

No more weak, stupid, broken, crying, lonely, Maka.

Here, she can be headstrong. Powerful. Interesting. Smart.

All the things she was before the outbreak, times eleven.

The thought makes her grin to herself, makes her increase her speed even more as she barrels through the streets of Death City at what must be a pretty alarming pace for people just going about their daily lives.

"Maka!" she hears her name yelled out from a few blocks away.

She slows down, coming to a crawling stop. She winces as the last hour of pushing herself to her limits suddenly catches up to her all at once and her legs thrum with self-inflicted muscle and bone pain.

"Maka!" she hears Soul's voice call again, this time spotting where the voice is originating from. He's walking quickly towards her, from the direction of the academy.

"Hey!" she yells, beaming as he reaches her, looking a little worried. "Are… are you okay?" she asks, through hot and sweaty breaths. "What's going on?"

He looks her up and down. "Jeez," he smirks. "You're going to hurt yourself going at that pace."

She sweeps her forearm across her brow and shrugs. "It's amazing. You should join me some time!" she exclaims, her tone excited.

He laughs. "Uh… no. I'm really not into cardio."

"Oh, come on!" she begs. "Couldn't you just sacrifice one gym session a week? Come running with me?" she pleads. "It'll be fun!"

He hesitates, not sure how to approach the subject. "Maybe," he lies. "Look, can we just go somewhere? I really need to talk to you. Like, _right_ now."

Something about the intensity of his voice, the way he looks stressed – it sets Maka's teeth on edge. She feels herself coming down from her endorphin high and sends him a concerned frown. "Uh… yeah, sure," she answers. The second she does, he grabs her arm and leads her quickly away from the streets.

They walk for a couple of minutes, while Maka repeatedly asks him where they are going, and why – to no avail. He doesn't offer any more than a quick 'ssh' in response to her many questions. After a while, she just gives up and lets him lead her to the forest that they were practicing weapon transformation in the other day, away from the city streets.

When he stops walking, she grabs her arm away from him and turns to face her apparent captor. "Uh, you mind telling me what the hell that was all about?" she asks, a little red-in-the-face. It's possible that she's just sunburned, but it's also possible that she's a little annoyed that Soul is being such a buzzkill.

"I just need to tell you something, okay?"

She rolls her eyes. "Would you quit being so melodramatic? Don't you think we know each other well enough by now? Just spit it out, you can _trust_ me."

He observes her for a second, realising that she's right, and then takes a deep breath. "I… I just…" he starts, trying to un-jumble the words in his mind. "There's things that the academy isn't telling you."

She places a hand on her hip, curious but not exactly intrigued just yet. "So? I imagine there's a lot they aren't telling me."

"No, I mean… big stuff. And not just you – there's stuff that Kid isn't telling anyone. Except a few people." He amends. "Like… stuff that might threaten your life information, okay?"

"What?" she frowns, officially confused. "What's going on? What did Kid say to you?"

"This is going to sound insane, but please… hear me out, Maka," he starts. "Promise me that you will just listen, and not think I'm totally insane?"

She spits out a laugh and gestures wildly around her. "Look at where I am. I'm in a top secret military academy for people who turn into weapons, Soul. This is all insane," she points out. "Nothing. _Nothing_ will surprise me."

He sighs. "Sit down?" he suggests. They both sit down on the grass together and Soul tentatively starts his explanation. "I have a feeling that you might be wrong about that."

* * *

Credit to Maka – she doesn't act as shocked as Soul guesses that she probably is. Given the breadth of information that she's suddenly had to adapt to, though, it's not that surprising.

He has to give her credit where credit's due – Maka really could just take an idea and run with it.

Zombies? Why not.

Weapons, meisters? Cool.

Witches? Whatever.

Insane lawless military cults? _Awesome_.

The most she lets herself react is by nodding periodically until he's completely done with the entire spiel, paraphrased but essentially exactly what Kid had told him, in his office.

"I know this is bad, Soul," she sighs, after he's finished, and awaiting some kind of response. "But… what choice do we really have, here?" she asks. "You don't have a better plan for defending us. Neither do I. Kid's the one in charge," she pauses.

Soul is gobsmacked. "You're on _his_ side?!"

Maka shrugs. "I get what you're saying, Soul, I do. I'm as big a fan of transparency in government as anyone - at least I _was_ \- but…"

"But _what_?" Soul retorts, his voice sharp, as if there's no possible 'but' to that sentence.

"-but there are no laws in this brave new world we find ourselves in, are there? Not exactly any legislation to follow which deals with this kind of thing. Not Nevada, not _anywhere_. Not anymore," she points out. "We're pretty far past borders dictating international jurisdiction, don't you think?"

He scowls and throws his hands up in annoyance. "So, we should just embrace chaos? Every man for himself? _Jesus_ , Maka, I didn't peg you as an anarchist-"

"I'm not an anarchist," she cuts him off, her voice with a profound new edge that he doesn't recognise. "But we've have to follow the closest thing we have left to the law. Which is the chain of military command," she points out. "And _Kid_ is acting leader."

"This isn't a military operation," he begins to argue, but Maka cuts him up again.

" _Isn't_ it?" she questions. "It sure sounds like one."

"It sounds like a _dictatorship_ ," he corrects. "It _sounds_ like a panicked, scared little _kid,"_ he spits out the name with a little vitriol, _"-_ who has no idea what to do suddenly at the helm of a battle for life or death."

She raises an eyebrow at him, pointedly. "We're _all_ scared little kids, Soul. You included. None of us have any idea how to fix this, or even if it _can_ be fixed."

He groans in frustration. "Don't tell me you're buying into this 'don't ask don't tell ' bullshit Kid's cooked up…"

"I'm not ' _buying into_ ' anything, Soul, I'm capable of actually thinking for myself – believe it or not." A frown mars her pretty features.

"Are you?" he demands, their conversation suddenly louder. "Maka, I know what it's like to be starving, to be scared – I was right there with you, remember? Just because the academy can take that away doesn't mean that they're _right_ to be doing-"

" _Do_ you?" she retorts, an angry, forced laugh coming out of her. "Do you _really_ understand? Because the way I see it – you had a pretty big edge on me, being able to turn into a weapon at will, don't you think? Not to _mention_ being immune from this virus, by the way…" she pauses. "Do you _really_ think you could _possibly_ understand what it was like for me, for all those months I was on my own?" she scoffs, about halfway through her spiel. "I literally had no idea anyone else was alive, which is more than I can say for you!" she laughs angrily as she speaks, her hand signals punctuating her point effectively. "I had no way of defending myself other than a few bullets and a rotten shotgun. I had no _immunity_ ; no knowledge that _any_ of this-" she gesticulates wildly towards the towering building of the DWMA above them – "even _existed_. So… just... don't patronise me, Soul. I _know_ what decision I'm making, okay?" her voice takes on a tired; softer quality at the end.

There's a few seconds of silence as they both regard each other, in a slightly new light.

Soul sighs, letting a few seconds pass for both of them to calm down slightly. "I'm sorry."

She clenches her jaw, not ready to apologise just yet. "Yeah, well… I need this, Soul. The place I was in… I just... I _need_ this," she restates, determination setting over her features.

He nods, his mind in some faraway place. "And I can't be here," his voice cracks, finally letting slip through all of his cold interior. He lets his head fall into his hands. "I can't be here."

"Why not?" she demands.

"You don't get it. This is my fault. If the witches are angry because of Kim… well, then, they should be angry at _me,"_ he says into his hands.

Maka blinks, suddenly surprised as his change in mood. Her temper cools rapidly and she places a gentle hand on his shoulder. She's not used to seeing him wear his heart on his sleeve, and it's a little unnerving. "Soul?" she asks, quietly. "Are... you okay?"

"It was my _fault_ , Maka, it was my fault. I should have protected her. It was my _job_ …" he says through his teeth.

"Soul, I'm sure it _wasn't_ -" she begins, but Soul's not through.

"I just wanted... to protect you. To protect Liz and Patty. I just wanted to make up for it, somehow. I know I can't, _God_ knows I can't… but if I leave, I can at least _try_ to protect the people here… to get them out of danger." his words come out in a garbled mess of emotion and release. "Maka, I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry that this whole situation is so fucked up, and that I put you right in the middle of danger," he apologises, the words flowing fast; tumbling out him like an avalanche.

"You don't have to apolo-"

"And _most_ of all, I'm sorry that you won't leave with me," he continues. "I... you have no idea. If what Kid says is true... you don't know what you're in for." There's a quick silence as his brain struggles to catch up with his mouth, speaking in cryptic warnings. "Maka, you said you were lonely before I met you, but I was just the same. And I…" he swallows. "I don't know how I'm going to _do_ it again."

"Then don't," she says quietly, moving her arms up to cradle his head in her hands. " _Don't_. Please. Stay here," she begs, trying even though she knows the answer already.

He shakes his head, blinking up at her big green eyes. "I can't," he whispers, his chest beginning to feel tight again.

She feels her stomach drop all over again at his determination, the resolute look in his eyes telling what she already knows deep down.

Neither of them are going to change their minds about this.

"Then…" she changes tack. "Just… do me a favor, please, before you go?" she asks, her voice still sad and small.

"Anything," he promises, meaning it.

" _Help_ me be a weapon. Help me learn how to fight, before you go - Soul, please."

He tenses up again and a low growl comes from him. "Maka, I don't know if it's something I can teach you. Hell, I don't even know if it's something that can be taught. I think you should consider that maybe you just aren't... you just aren't..."

"I'm not _what_?" she crosses her arms, raising a brow.

"A _weapon_."

"I am a weapon!" she emphasises. "I can feel it, Soul," she grits through her teeth. "You said you'd do anything," she pleads. "Do this."

He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that day. "Are you sure?"

She nods with absolution. "I need to learn this, so I can defend myself properly, when the time comes. When the witches... attack, or whatever they're planning. If what you're saying is true, I'm going to _need_ to be able to transform. To _fight_." she tries her best to get the steel back in her voice.

Soul waits a few second before begrudgingly gritting out a frustrated: "Fine."

Her face relaxes into a forced smile at his acquiescence. "Good," she breathes out. "How does right now sound?"

" _Right_ now?" he groans. "I'm tired, Maka, I've had a hell of a day-"

"Right now," she demands again, indignant. "I _know_ I can do this. Please, just… hear me out. I had a crazy idea," she lets herself shoot him a wicked smile. "I know how we can do this. I _know_ how I can transform!"

He closes his eyes, resigning himself to whatever insane scheme she's concocted in her brain, and prepares himself for anything. "Hit me," he rolls his eyes.

"No," she corrects, her face complete with unnerving gleam in her eye. "I want _you_ to hit _me_."


	12. Chapter 12

He stares at her like she's just grown a third head.

"Uh…" he replies, eloquently.

She corrects herself. "Okay, well not _hit_ me, exactly. But I want you to attack me. _Seriously_ , I do," she stops him short of interjecting. "I want you to run at me with your scythe," she explains.

"Uh…" he repeats, slower this time.

"Soul!" she snaps him out of it. "I mean it!"

He shakes his head. "No," he says simply, continuing to shake his head. "N.O."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to _kill_ you? Is that a good reason? Or because you're insane? How about that one?" he smacks his palm against his face. "Christ, Maka, you're going to be the death of me…"

"No, I'm serious!" she protests. "I'm really serious. I think there's something to this, both you and the Professor both told me that most weapons transform in response to an attack, or fear."

He shakes his head again. "So, I should attempt to murder you on the off chance that it might work?" he repeats. "You're literally crazy. You're _crazy_ ," he points at her, laughing at the absurdity of it all, beginning to sound a little unhinged. "You're crazy and I'm not doing this."

"Just… just go for my arm, or something. That's all I need."

"You have no idea how sharp my blade is, Maka, that thing will slice through a limb with zero effort," he snaps. "There's no way I'm doing this."

"Yes, but Professor Stein said that-"

"That nutjob? Why the hell are you trusting _him_ over _me_?" he clenches his jaw.

Maka crosses her arms, and then an imaginary lightbulb appears above her head. "Okay, how about this: do it, or I'll find somebody else who will do it instead."

His heart thuds in his chest and he scowls. It's not something he has to think about, even for a second. The choice of whether he's going to let some random idiot slice up Maka, or whether he can do it – at least in the latter option, he knows she's going to be safe. Or, at least, safe enough.

"Urgh, you don't give at all, do you?" he kicks the dirt underneath his shoe. "Fuck."

"Is that a yes?" she asks slyly.

"Yes. But… I'm not going to run at you. We're… we're going to have a fair fight, okay?" he says nervously, picking up a stick from the ground and handing it to her. "It's no substitute for this, but… it's something." He can't believe the words that are coming from his mouth; can't believe that he's actually agreeing to this insanity. " _Okay_?" he repeats again, waiting for her to agree.

She waits for a bit longer, but then shrugs. "Fine, fine. But you have to go for my arm, eventually. You really have to try, Soul, otherwise it's never going to work," she warns him. "And if I get hurt… well, Stein will patch me up again. And if he doesn't, well, I'm willing to take that risk."

Soul's throat forms a giant lump and he transforms his arm.

"Okay. Alright," he empties his lungs, his breath trembling. "I'm… I'm going to stand here, with my arm out, okay?"

She places a hand on his arm and looks into his crimson eyes. "Soul, it's okay. I trust you. Completely. And I want you to trust me."

He swallows. "I… I do, b-but I don't trust myself-"

"You don't need to!" she exclaims, taking a few steps backwards to prepare herself. "I do!"

She stops, a few paces away from him. And then she starts to run; sprint towards him the fastest her legs have ever carried her. She uses every bit of her willpower; every last bit of her determination and her courage, drawing back her fist as she approaches him and slugging him in the face, hard, with all of her strength.

He stumbles backwards and clutches his face in pain as Maka uses the opportunity to swing the giant stick behind her head like a club and slam it down towards his shoulder blade. When it makes contact, it cracks against the flat surface of his blade which he's moved to protect himself.

She waits.

And then he uses the flat part of his blade to fling her to the ground next to him.

She hits the ground with quite an almighty thud and Soul immediately runs to her side. "Jesus, Maka, I'm sorry – are you okay-"

He's cut off from his sentence when she jumps up, charging again at him with the stick in her hand. This time she goes for his shins, hitting him before he has the chance to react – but his instincts kick in, and before she knows it, his leg has shifted to demon metal. She groans with the effort and pants out: "Not fair," with a small pout.

She slams a fist into his stomach, but again, it's not hard enough and Soul only steps back one pace before his blade meets her stick again – still, the flat part. The two bang against each other rather discordantly while Maka growls at him in between jabs. "Fight. Me. Properly," she demands through her teeth, throwing punches which he dodges with ease.

"I don't want to _hurt_ you," he repeats, blocking another hit with his arm, this time failing to turn it into scythe fast enough. The hard wood cracks against his bone unpleasantly and he winces. "Ow."

While he's distracted, Maka sees her opportunity. She runs to him again, grabs him by the shoulder, lifts herself off the ground and prepares herself.

With every _ounce_ of her might, she slams her knee into his crotch.

Except she never makes contact.

Call it instinct, call it defensive tactics, call it male pride – but there was something about being kicked in the balls which was so egregious to any man that any self-respecting one would do almost _anything_ to avoid it.

Maka had been banking on this.

Before she manages to make contact, Soul's scythe arm transforms immediately and rapidly out towards Maka, his brain not engaging quick enough to prevent the sharpest point of his blade from travelling towards the centre of her chest at rather alarming velocity.

It reaches her.

And then, he _swears_ that time simply stops.

They both freeze in place, simultaneously, to take stock of the situation.

Maka's hands grasp his curved sickle, the point of which falls just short of piercing her internal organs. The strangest part, though, is that nothing but her bare hands appear to have taken the brunt of the entire force of his blade. And what's stranger still, is that her hands seem to be the only thing stopping him from slicing her open.

It's almost as if her hands are made of lead, not flesh. He _can't_ get past.

He pants, his eyes wide in shock. "W- _what_?" he spits out. "What are you _doing_?"

She looks up at him, confused. "I thought you said that this would cut through me?" she wonders. "It isn't even that sharp, for God's sake."

He shakes his head, just as confused as she is. "I don't… I don't _understand_. Why… _how_ are you still alive?" he wonders aloud. "I mean, I don't… this should have…" he splutters. "Maka, my blade should have cut straight through your hands," he tries to explain, tries to make her understand his confusion.

She frowns, "You mean, this doesn't usually happen?"

"No," he grits out. "You've _seen_ what _usually_ happens when my scythe goes through flesh. This… this has _never_ happened before."

"Is it because I'm friendly, maybe?" she wonders.

He shakes his head. "No," he says slowly. "I've managed to injure people while training before. We all have. This… _this_ is weird."

"I can almost feel your… your scythe, if that makes sense," she realises, a faint buzzing starting in the palm of her hands which are still touching his blade and spreading through her whole body. "It feels so light," she laughs, a little giddy. "I can't believe you can hurt _anyone_ with this thing."

He frowns. "Maka, hold my hand for a second. I want to try something," he tells her, reaching towards her with his unoccupied hand. She looks at it for a second, obediently taking his hand in hers and linking their fingers.

There's a flash of white; and before Maka knows what's happened, she's holding him. In his entire, impressive, long, falcate, scythe form.

No, she's _more_ than just holding him.

She's _wielding_ him.

"Oh my God, Soul," she breathes out. "This is incredible. I can… I can _feel_ you. I can hear your thoughts," she says, amazed. "I… I… what the hell _is_ this?"

He's in the same level of shock as she is. "Maka, we're resonating. This is soul resonance," he explains, equally for his own benefit than hers. He needs to hear the words out loud to really process this. "This is… _this_ is the thing that happens when a meister and weapon fight together. They become like, it's hard to explain, but like one really powerful entity, almost…"

She cartwheels with him still in her grasp and then spins him above her head. "You're so easy to move!" she exclaims, mostly ignoring him but having a lot of fun twirling him around. "Oh my God, this is _amazing_. How the hell am I doing this?"

"We're both doing it," he explains. "Look, just… just head for that tree. Use me on it. Screw deforestation."

She practically skips towards it, euphoric, and in one fell swoop the tree is in two; cracked down the middle. "Wow," she breathes, entranced by her new skill set. "You're so powerful."

He laughs now; she feels the sound of it vibrate through her every cell. Her _soul_. And she can feel his soul, too, thrumming along in perfect harmony with hers.

She places the handle on the ground and in another flash of light, he's human again.

"Oh my God!" she exclaims, once he's back in the shape of a man. Her voice is bordering on hysterical as she giggles in amazement.

"Maka…" he says slowly. "You don't take after your father," he laughs, still experiencing shock. "You take after your mother. You're a _meister_ , not a weapon."

She smiles faintly, unsure what exactly that entails. But she's thrilled, for some reason, resonating with him had been a heady rush. The rush of endorphins she's feeling is about ten times as intense as the runner's high she'd had, earlier. "A… _meister_ …" she repeats the word, sounding strange on her lips.

"And not just that," he continues. "You're the only person who has _ever_ been able to resonate with me," he explains, his voice quiet and tranquil, still staring at her in utter awe and admiration. "It's _you_. You're the only one," his mind transports back to something which happened a few weeks prior. "That must've been what I felt back on the road, before. Do you remember that? Patty said that she thought it was like a wavelength, but I didn't know how that could be possible. It must've been… it must've been because I was touching you," he remembers hazily. "It was so… _powerful_."

She stares down at her hands, still completely unscathed despite having been grasping his razor-sharp edges, and then looks back up into his eyes.

"If I'm going to be a meister… then I want to be _your_ meister," she decides.

"Maka," he starts, his voice biting back concern. "I… I don't know," he bites his lip. "This is all _insane_. I had no idea I was even _capable_ of resonance until just now." he sighs. "I need to… I need to figure out if this is a good idea," he reasons, scratching his head.

She approaches him, wraps her arms around his shoulders. "Soul," she plants a carefree kiss on his lips, surprising him a little. "Did that feel half as good for you as it did for me?" she asks.

He pauses for a second, wondering whether to point out the double entendre but deciding he wanted to keep his limbs. He nods. "Better," he replies, honestly. She smiles as his warm arms wrap around her waist instinctively; almost protectively.

"Then it's the right thing," she brushes his thumb with her cheek. "It's as simple as that, isn't it?" her smile stretches out, infectious to the last.

And just for _once_ , in this stupid, cursed world - he wishes that it could be.


	13. Chapter 13

Maka winces as the sound of Black Star's knuckle playfully slamming into Soul's arm make a ' _crack'_ sound. "You finally found someone who fits your spooky-ass wavelength, man!" Black Star guffaws, slinging his wet towel over his shoulder. "Congrats," he adds, in a genuine fashion. And then to Maka: "Looks like you're stuck with this one! Tough break," he mockingly warns, jerking a thumb over to Soul.

"What's wrong with Soul?" Maka asks, genuine intrigue on her face as her eyes flit between the two of them.

"He's just joking," Tsubaki interjects, grabbing her wayward partner by the shoulders and forcibly dragging him away from Maka. "Don't listen to Black Star," she waves him away. "It's _amazing_ news that the two of you are partners! And it's so unusual to resonate at such a high rate straight off the bat," she smiles warmly at Maka. "You must have your mother's knack for it!" she says in a singsong tone.

Maka cracks a smile. "I… guess so. It's nice to feel so close to my parents, after such a long time…" she muses, looking fondly up at Soul. "Are your parents all weapons and meisters, too?" she asks, curious.

Black Star, Soul and Tsubaki fall awkwardly silent. The looks on their collective faces prompt Maka realise that she's misspoken, and she begins to correct herself. "I… I mean, I- I didn't want to-" she starts to stammer.

Soul comes to her rescue. "It's fine. None of us are real close with our families. I guess it's what we all have in common…" he scratches his head. "Well, you know my feelings on _my_ family," he sends her a grimace.

"And _my_ brother tried to kill me," Tsubaki interjects, her voice breezy. "So I killed him."

Maka's jaw practically hits the ground and Soul rushes to explain.

"He had an itty-bitty inferior complex," he points out. "Look, don't worry about it."

"Understatement of the century!" Tsubaki laughs, and then sighs. "It's okay. Many meisters and weapons come from broken or damaged families. It's as much a hallmark of the power as the transformation itself."

Maka's eyes flit to Black Star.

He scowls back at her. "Don't look at me. My family are all super-cool assassins."

Soul rolls his eyes and Tsubaki cringes in unison. "Whatever, he's in denial," Soul explains with a chuckle. "You're actually pretty lucky."

Maka nods, and shrugs as if she doesn't quite agree but doesn't feel like voicing it. She fiddles with her fingers for a couple of seconds, taking stock of her company.

Black Star and Tsubaki are a strange combination, she thinks. Tsubaki was tall; buxom; every inch of her classically beautiful. She dressed in a way that was very traditionally Japanese – silk kimonos and pretty patterns. The way she moved was graceful; elegant. Her voice was unobtrusive, subservient and extremely quiet.

Black Star was the total opposite. He was short, loud, and not to mention annoying. His arms were covered in tattoos of stars from shoulder to wrist. He also dressed like he's in some sort of Shonen manga – like he was trying to be the _Hokage_ , Maka thinks with amusement.

He had obnoxious, spiky hair to match his obnoxious, spiky personality _and,_ all of that was before you even mention the insane God complex.

All of which prompts her to swiftly change the subject. "So… uh, how'd you two become partners, if you don't mind me asking?"

Black Star laughs and jabs a finger towards himself. "Only the best would do for a GOD like myself. And Tsubaki _is_ the best. I chose her because she's the only one who could deal with my _awesomeness_!"

Soul and Tsubaki share a look, and Maka immediately gets the impression that this is not the full story.

"Well, actually…" Tsubaki interjects, her voice saccharine. "Black Star's soul couldn't bond with anybody else," she smiles. "It's too aggressive and controlling. Most other souls reject it and won't resonate! Luckily, it works perfectly with mine. Me and Black Star are an ideal match," she explains with an easy smile. " _Most_ … of the time."

"I see," Maka replies in understanding. "Is that why your soul couldn't bond, either?" she glances at Soul.

"No," he says bluntly.

Tsubaki jumps in again. "Erm, well, the situation is different," she begins to explain. "Black Star couldn't bond with anybody else because his soul is so aggressive, other souls reject it. Soul… had almost the opposite problem? His soul was too brittle; untrusting…" she clarifies, clearly self-censoring as she talks; always finding the best phrasing to keep everyone happy..

"In other words, he's a loner!" Black Star grabs his sides and laughs like a hyena.

Maka braces for impact; expecting Soul to be angry but, to her immense surprise, he cracks a smile.

"Yeah, well, better a loner than a megalomaniac," he chuckles, shoving his friend good-naturedly.

"DON'T _INSULT_ YOUR GOD, PEON!" Black Star shoves back, and the two boys escalate into some sort of chaotic playfight.

As they rough each other up, Maka consider jumping in to stop. Tsubaki stops her with a shake of her head, implying that she should just let the two of them ride it out.

The two women watch on, unimpressed as the epic battle somehow reaches its pinnacle with Soul rather uncharacteristically holding Black Star in a headlock.

"Not so godly now, huh?" Soul rubs his knuckles against Black Star scalp, teasingly.

"Your pits _stink_ , man, when's the last time you showered?" Black Star gags.

"Don't sniff me, you freak!"

Tsubaki and Maka share a look, silently communicating in the same way that all females have at some point; that particular sidelong which has only one definable meaning:

 _Men are idiots_.

Tsubaki grimaces. "Well, it'll certainly be nice to have some female company around, now that you're Soul's new partner!" she says brightly, disguising any hint of annoyance.

Maka giggles and her brows knit together in mild concern as the fight appears to get more violent. "Do they… do this a _lot_?" she wrinkles her nose up in disdain.

"More. Than. You'd. _Think_." Tsubaki says through her teeth, her face remaining in a perfect façade of a smile.

Maka shudders at her rictus grin and then sighs, tucking a strand behind her ear in exasperation. "Well, why don't we go grab some coffee while we wait for this to blow over?"

"That sounds lovely, Maka," Tsubaki's hands clasp together in relief as she links arms with Maka and they head off in the direction of the city.

Meanwhile, in their wake, Black Star wrestles Soul to the floor and pins his arms down. "WHO'S YOUR GOD! SAY IT! _SAY_ I'M YOUR GOD!"

" _Never_ ," Soul mutters indignantly, wincing in pain as Black Star sits on his chest and claims his victory.

"TEN! NINE! EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX-"

"This isn't wrestling, you _moron_ ," Soul groans at his weight. "Get the _hell_ off me!"

* * *

"It's almost homoerotic," Maka giggles, sipping at her coffee and making a cliché 'aah' sound at the taste. Tsubaki sends her a questioning glance. "The playfighting, I mean," she clarifies quickly.

Tsubaki laughs. "I know. But what can I say… boys will be boys! They have to get it out, somehow," she justifies with a smile, sniffing the pleasant aroma of her herbal tea. "Otherwise we'd all be doomed."

"That's probably how most wars happen," Maka jokes, and the two girls share a giggle. "I'm… sorry if I come across as rude, but I wanted to ask…" Maka hesitates, not sure if she should ask the question.

"How do I put up with him?" Tsubaki finishes knowingly, sipping her tea with a smile. "Don't worry, everybody asks that question. I'm not offended, really! I love Black Star, and we get along very well. But I realise that he's a little too much for everybody to deal with. Which is why we're perfect for each other, really, because I can be very patient with him whereas most people aren't," she sips her tea and smiles serenely. "I suppose I see the good sides of him."

Maka frowns. "So… your souls are compatible? Because he's aggressive and you're so calm?" she asks.

"Well, it's more complex than that. But that's the simple version, yes. You tend to be compatible personally with people who you have compatible souls with. It makes a lot of sense when you think about it. After all, your personality is only a reflection of your innermost soul."

Maka nods, carefully placing her cup down. "Well… my parents were supposedly partners. But they divorced," she points out. "My dad was a bit of a… philanderer, I guess."

Tsubaki nods. "Souls change over time, just like people."

"I see," Maka says. "Do you think Soul and I are… compatible?" she wonders aloud, finally broaching the question that's been on her lips for weeks.

Tsubaki smiles, as if she'd been expecting such a question. "Yes, I would say so," she answers simply. "You achieved a high resonance rate straight off the bat, according to Soul. That would suggest that your souls are highly compatible."

Maka leans back in her chair, enjoying the company. Speaking to Tsubaki was like a breath of fresh air. For _weeks_ she had been so caught up in recovering; training, weapons; and _Soul_ \- that she had almost forgotten what it was like to have a normal conversation with a friend.

"How so?" she probes further. Something about Tsubaki's demeanour just strikes her as trustworthy; someone who she doesn't mind being vulnerable in front of.

"Well… Soul's a very good friend of mine, but he can be, ah, _how to put it_?" she hesitates. "A little standoffish, at times. Brittle; sometimes even cold. He's not particularly motivated, and he's prone to…" there's another long pause. "…depressive spells." Tsubaki winces as she says the words, whispered as if somehow taboo.

"Oh…" Maka frowns.

"B-but he is loyal. Trustworthy. Very protective. He feels deeply, but he's rational and makes decisions sensibly. He has a lot of pride, which can be a good thing or a bad thing."

"But how does that make him compatible with _me_?" Maka continues.

Tsubaki thinks about this. "Well, I don't know you that well. But it's safe to say that you're ambitious," she smiles knowingly. Maka nods. "And you're upbeat, that's for sure."

Maka pauses before replying. "I suppose my father always used to say I was erratic, and prone to being overly headstrong…" she shrugs. "I guess I've always needed someone to… even me out," she says reluctantly.

"Exactly!" Tsubaki grins. "Do you see what I mean?"

Maka shrugs, and nods. "I suppose I do, now you say it."

They both pause to sip their respective beverages.

"He cares a lot about you, Maka," Tsubaki warns her, after a comfortable silence. "So… be careful."

Maka frowns. _Be careful? What did that mean?_

"I don't follow-"

Tsubaki interrupts. "I've seen Soul at his worst, and at his best. I've seen him in a relationship, and I'm telling you – I've _never_ seen him the way he is around you. It's like… you open him up," she hints vaguely. "You should be aware of your effect on him, that's all."

Cryptic, Maka thinks. A little intriguing, but she doesn't want to ask more. She's never been one to give away her position, and besides, they've talked Soul more than enough. She quickly changes the topic to something else, something about weapon history.

She leaves the topic of her relationship with Soul untouched, at least until later tonight when she can really sit and digest that piece of information herself.

As much as Maka's taken to Tsubaki in the last ten minutes – which is rather a lot - she still couldn't bring herself to fully trust _anyone_ at the academy just yet.

Certainly not with something so sensitive as her silly feelings. Other than Soul, obviously.


	14. Chapter 14

"I WIN! BOW DOWN AND CONCEDE MY GLORY!" Black Star's bellowing can be heard several classrooms away.

Soul scowls and stands up, dusting himself off and sticking his hands in his pockets. "Surprised you even know the word _concede_ ," he snarks, and then sighs. "Yeah, yeah. You're stronger than me. I get it," he kicks a small chunk of gravel under his shoe, prompting a strange look from Black Star.

"Uh… I didn't mean to bum you out, man," the slightly shorter of the two friends says, his excitable mood turning sheepish. "Are you… okay?" he looks around, suddenly confused at how alone they suddenly are. "Uh, where did the girls go…?" he asks blankly, only just noticing their absence.

Soul shrugs. "I'm fine," he replies glumly. "They probably just got sick of us fighting."

Black Star looks back at his friend. "You sure? You seem… moody," he approaches the subject about as delicately as can be expected. He is Black Star, after all. Despite his ninja-training, the subtle art of conversation was often lost on him.

"Yeah, well. You're right. I _am_ weak." He scuffs his shoe again against the ground.

"Uh… I was kidding, dude, look – you spent months _with no food._ Not to mention your… wound," he points to Soul's stomach. "It's _fine_ if you aren't as beefy as me just yet. Nobody's expecting you to be."

"You don't understand," he mutters, angry.

"Try me, then."

"How am I supposed to protect Maka?" he asks, his gaze turning skyward as he shield his eyes from the glare of the midday sun. "I already let her get hurt too many times. Now she expects me to stay here and be her weapon," he grits out. "I can't… I _can't_. I'll put all of you in danger."

Black Star blinks in surprise. "Why would being _here_ put you in danger?" he wonders.

Soul looks up at his friend, and then looks back down at the dirt. "No reason," he says vaguely, waving the question away. "I…" he starts, hesitantly, not sure how to continue.

"Either you're crazier than I thought, or you know something I don't."

"There's probably lots I know that you don't," Soul jokes, despite the sombre tone. When Black Star doesn't laugh, Soul realises that he's serious. "I can't say," he admits. "But you should probably… you should probably think about what Kid's doing. Why he's running this… this kind of operation." Soul shoves his hands even lower in his pockets, his mood suddenly sour.

"We're trying to get rid of the _zombies_ ," Black Star replies with a confused frown. "Why are you still so paranoid? Don't you trust Kid?"

Soul looks his friend dead in the eyes. "You really think so, huh?" he asks. "Then tell me this: why isn't everyone out in the field? Why does Kid have so many students and teachers patrolling the academy, huh?"

Black Star frowns, deep in thought. "B-because… erm," he starts, not sure how to respond. "Well, we found _you_ , didn't we?"

Soul rolls his eyes. " _Yeah_ , but only because I already-"

He gets cut off halfway through his sentence, because there's a high-pitched shriek which comes at him from approximately seven metres away. Both boys turn their attention suddenly towards the sound; startled.

The shriek is originating from a bald-headed, angry-looking young man standing in the doorway to the balcony. It last for around five full seconds (which as far as Soul is concerned is about five seconds too long) before the young man, complete with gold spear, comes charging at him full pelt.

Soul is mildly taken aback for a couple seconds, until the spear stops short of piercing his chest.

And then a person pops out from the end of the spear, and with a dragged out sigh, drawls: "Hello there, Soul."

Soul pushes the spear out of his immediate vicinity with a single outstretched finger. "Hey, Harvar. How's it going?"

Harvar shrugs. "About as good as usual. Apologies for attacking you. Ox is…" he pauses short of finishing his sentence.

"Ox?" Soul finishes for him.

"A complete _blowhard_ , yes." Harvar says matter-of-factly, cringing at his meister's actions. He then transforms completely, whisking himself out of Ox's hands and onto his own two feet. Turning to his meister, he rolls his eyes. "You want to fight him, _fight him_. Don't drag _me_ into it." His words come out exasperated before he turns on his heel and stomps in an alternate direction.

Ox, suddenly sans weapon, raises his fists. "I heard you had come back, but I had to see it to believe it! How dare you show your face here?!" he demands of Soul.

Soul and Black Star share a look.

"I'll… let you two capable dudes handle this," Black Star delegates, before placing a hand on Soul's shoulder. "Just… try not to hurt the poor guy, okay?" he offers a piece of advice for his friend before scuttling away in the same direction as Harvar.

Soul sighs. He tries diplomacy. "Can we talk?"

"I have _nothing_ to say to you."

Soul opens his mouth, and then closes it. "Ox, it's been over half a year," he tries, his voice coming out tired and hoarse.

"That doesn't bring her back to me," he spits in disgust.

"And neither does fighting me," Soul points out.

"I don't care." Ox's face turns even redder than it was before. He's so angry, Soul could swear that he sees steam come out of the boy's ears. "Why would you show your face here again?"

" _Relax_ , Ox, I only came here to drop off a few friends," he says, his voice slow and calm. "I'm not… intending on staying."

Ox marches closer to him, his fists still outstretched. "Don't bullshit me, Evans, you've been here for weeks. Avoiding me. Avoiding the truth. Everyone else may have forgotten, but I haven't," he says, lip curling. "I hope _you_ haven't forgotten, either. It was your job to protect her, and you failed."

Soul's eyes lower. "I... haven't forgotten."

"Good. Because I'm not the only one. Jackie remembers, too," he sniffs. "I may not beat you in a fight by myself, but with Jackie on my side… well, just maybe," he threatens. "

Soul's mouth opens, and then closes. He remembers the last time they had this confrontation – a different balcony, a different outcome - but almost the _exact_ same series of events.

* * *

_"You," Ox's voice comes out cold as ice. His tear-stained cheeks turn white as his whole body shakes with upset rage. "You killed her," he says. "YOU KILLED HER!"_

_There's a wave a of silence across the balcony as every single student standing there falls silent. Nobody even moves a muscle. It's almost as if everyone except Soul and Ox cease to exist for a few moments. The crowd parts like the red sea, spitting out Soul for Ox to march up to and stab him with an accusing finger._

_"Ox, I… I… I didn't mean," he stammers out. "It was a mistake-"_

_"You had one job!" he cries. "To keep your team alive! Why didn't you check the building? Why didn't you see the threat? You let her walk into her death!"_

_"B-but I… we had to-"_

_"I'LL KILL YOU!" Ox suddenly screams out, lunging at Soul's face with a preemptive and clumsy fist. Soul dodges and his fist swings into thin air, almost knocking him to the ground with the momentum. "Come here! Let me at you! HARVAR!" he demands, summoning his weapon. "Come here!"_

_Soul watches Harvar shift into a spear at his meister's command, Ox gearing up for battle. "Ox, please…" he starts._

_"I want to fight. Fight me!" Ox growls, readying his weapon and pointing it at his target._

_Soul closes his eyes and slowly sinks down to his knees. His head hangs down low as it shakes up and down in assent. There's a gasp and a murmur which whips through the now sizeable crowd as Soul seemingly accepts his face._

_"Go ahead," he says, "Hit me. Blast with me with your wavelength. Kill me, do whatever."_

_Ox trembles with latent anger. "I will," he spits. "I'll kill you like you killed her."_

_Soul doesn't move a muscle._

_Someone calls out from the crowd. A friendly voice. "Soul, what the hell are you doing? Get up! He's going to kill you!"_

_He recognises the voice as Black Star's voice as the boy shoves his way to the front of the crowd to see for himself._

_"Let him. He's right." he calls back in defeat._

_Ox stomps his foot on the ground and his soul begins with crackle with faster resonance. Soul's keenly aware of his intent but still doesn't move._

_"You won't even give me the satisfaction of a fight – fine. Then I guess this'll just have to be an execution!" Ox declares._

_"Oh, screw this –" Black Star steps out from the crowd now, standing firmly between Ox and his quarry. "If you touch Soul, I'll make you wish you'd never been born, asshole!" he yells out. "You're not gonna kill my friend."_

_Ox grinds his teeth together and for a few seconds, it looks as if he's going to try to take on Black Star, but then Tsubaki steps out too, standing by Black Star's side. "Ox, put your weapon down. What happened to Kim is a tragedy... and I'm so sorry for you, but…" she turns round to face Soul. "But ending another life isn't going to bring her back. If you stop now, the academy won't exile you. You can stay here, but not if you continue. Not if you hurt him."_

_Ox's resolve cracks in two. He throws Harvar to the ground as he transforms, scrambling to find his feet as his meister turns on his heel – facing away from his quarry and away from the crowd._

_"What are you doing?" Soul hisses at his friends. "Let him do it. I don't want to… I don't want to…"_

_Black Star doesn't let him finish that sentence, grabbing onto his friends hand and hauling him onto his feet. "No. You are not going to get killed by Ox-fucking-Ford, of all people. Not on my watch."_

_Tsubaki nods in unison. "It wasn't your fault, Soul, you shouldn't pay for it with your life." She places a supporting hand on his shoulder. "Come on. Let's go."_

_Soul struggles to talk, choking back his emotions which form a hard lump in his throat. "It was… it was…"_

_Ox surprises everyone - choosing that moment to turn back on his heel, back to Soul. He storms towards his victim and grabs him by the collar – which is a feat in itself, considering they were of equal height. "You're going to pay for this some way or other, Evans," he spits out._

_Then he draws back his fist and slugs Soul in the face as hard as he can._

* * *

"What's the matter, Soul? Cat got your tongue? Oh wait, Blair's nowhere to be _seen._ " Ox jeers, in the present. "Just as well, really," he laughs without humour. "Hurry up and get on your knees, Evans, I want a second shot at you."

Something in Soul snaps. "You know _what_ , Ox? I spent a lot of time blaming myself for what happened to Kim. And yeah, maybe it was my fault. Maybe I killed her," he hits back, Ox wincing with every syllable. "But I _quit_ sulking. I got over it," he finishes with a derogatory stare. "Maybe you should think about doing the same."

Ox blinks in shock, taken aback by Soul's reaction.

From the sidelines, Black Star and Harvar share an eyebrow-raise. They watch the scene in front of them – almost identical to the one they had seen play out a few months prior. But this time, there's a power shift.

Soul was no longer the wreck he had been for months after Kim's death.

"You can try it if you want, Ox," Soul's voice takes on a sharp edge. "But this time, I'll fight back."

Ox snarls, wordless against Soul's warning. He curls his fists into tight balls by his side but, after a few seconds, he uncurls them. His voice drops to a whisper and all of a sudden, he looks like he's about to cry. "Fuck you, Soul," he spits out, almost in a twisted sob.

And then he turns on his heel and flees in the opposite direction.

There's a stunned silence. Soul takes a second or two to compose himself, de-escalating his sympathetic nervous system and cooling off.

"Well, that could have gone a lot worse, I suppose." Harvar shrugs at Black Star and rolls his eyes. Ever the pragmatist, he adjusts his visor and sighs. "I should go and stop Ox from doing something stupid."

Black Star nods in understanding as the boys lock eyes for a split second. "Good idea," he wryly smiles. "I'll go check on this one," he jerks a thumb towards the balcony.

* * *

"I can't believe you just shrugged it off like that, man," Black Star slaps him on the back so hard he almost chokes. Sometimes that boy really underestimated his own strength. "Good for you! I'd have knocked him out, the pompous ass."

Soul chuckles, a little morose. "Yeah, I know you would have."

"I'm serious, though…" Black Star nods appreciatively. "You've really come a long way since the last time you left the academy. "What happened? I thought for sure when you left you were just going to drink yourself down the drain…" he trails off.

Soul shrugs, the memory stinging. "I'm not sure," he scratches his head. "I spent a long time in my own head. I travelled around a lot. I was kind of in a bad place, you could say that." He runs a hand through his hair and offers up a sheepish kind of expression. "And then… I'm not sure. Something told me to go to Colorado," he explains. "That's when I found Maka."

"Why Colorado?" Black Star wonders.

"I just said, I don't know," he takes in a large inhale, staring up at the sky in thought. "I guess I'd kind of always wanted to see the Rockies."

Black Star snorts. "You are such a loser."

"...thanks, Black Star." Soul says after a while, clocking the suns position and realising that the time is probably later than either of them had accounted for. "For... saving my ass from Ox, before."

Black Star guffaws. "Come on man, let's not get lame. Let's leave that for the girls."

Soul laughs and agrees wholeheartedly. "Yeah, yeah. Sure," he lets out a whistle. "Sun's kinda low," he notes. He still feels that keen flicker of fear when night time encroaches. An instinct like that was hard to beat out of you when it took hold.

Black Star looks around him. "Yeah, come on. Let's go do _manly_ things, like drink beer. And play Xbox."

Soul would have almost done a spit-take, if he'd have had anything in his mouth. "You have an _Xbox_?"

Black Star slaps his hand against his friends back. "I'll let you play Halo with me if you don't tell anyone," he presses a single finger to his lips. "Kid's been wondering what's been eating the backup generator power at the academy for _weeks_ now," Black Star chortles. "It's driving him seriously mad."

Maybe it's an emotional release from his altercation with Ox, or maybe he's just going mad – but upon hearing this, Soul bursts into uncontrollable bouts of laughter. He bends double with it for at least a minute, his whole spine shaking with mirth as Black Star stares at him, baffled. When he's done, he's almost in tears.

"Wow, you've _definitely_ been stuck for entertainment for a while," Black Star gives him a sidelong glance, implying that he's gone crazy. "That wasn't even funny."

" _Never_ change," comes Soul's only response.


	15. Chapter 15

**I recently changed my account name. I changed it because someone from work found my account - honestly, I'm not sure that this will do anything but I don't love it when people from the real world read shit that I write! I don't spend much time on these chapters and they don't really showcase my best work. Besides, some of the stuff on this account is explicit and some of it is personal.**

**Anyway hola! It's ya girl, the-misshapen-polyp, masquering as year-of-the-pineapple!**

**Enjoy the chapter**

* * *

There's a palpable sigh of relief as he sets foot in the door. Holding it open a split second, he lets Maka step through as well before he lets go – letting the heavy oak slam shut behind him.

There was something deeply relaxing about slamming a door, he always thought. Especially after the day he'd had, there was nothing more he wanted than to just… get away from the academy for a little while. To be in his own space.

"Hey, Soul?" she pipes up, once they're inside. Soul smiles.

With Maka, of course.

"Yeah?"

She hesitates, fiddling with her fingers as she pulls of her shoes and sits down on the couch in front of him. "What happened when Tsubaki and I left? You never told us," she points out. "And ever since, you seemed sort of…" she struggles to find the right wording to convey what she means. "Lost."

He sighs, deep in his throat, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want to talk about it right now, Maka," he admits, his voice a little brusquer than he'd intended. He wasn't thrilled about the idea of telling Maka that he has a habit of getting in fights, or that there's people around here that hate him.

He's sure she'll find that out on her own, when he's gone, anyway.

Maka swallows. "Uh, sure," she shrugs, "Well… what do you want to do?"

He doesn't answer, because he's busy furiously rummaging through one of the kitchen cabinets. He finds his quarry, eventually, which he proudly holds up and presents to Maka.

It's an aged bottle of scotch.

"Oh, you're going to drink that?" she asks, but he's already unscrewed the cap and is pouring the liquid into his throat without pause. "O-okay, then..."

He finishes his swig and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. Then, he sits down next to her on the couch. "Yeah... I was."

She giggles and swings her legs over his, half-sitting on top of his lap. "Are you drunk?"

He shakes his head. "No, it generally takes a little more than that to get me drunk," he smiles. "But I did have a kind of shitty day. I kind of wanna chill out a little bit," he admits, and kisses her.

It's a languid kind of kiss, not completely chaste. What it lacks in effort it makes up for in effect - Maka feels their souls begin to resonate lightly, as they had before. She's surprised for a moment, she hadn't realised that weapons and meisters could resonate like this off the battlefield, too. Leaning into the feeling, she deepens the kiss, surprising herself with a rare moment of control over him. Of confidence in herself.

"Maka," he starts to speak, but she kisses the words right out of him. He does make a vague effort to resist, but she had already reached up and pulled him down to her, and any follow-up words are lost against her mouth. He kisses her gently, carefully, but it wasn't gentleness she wanted, not now, not after so long, and she knotted her fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against her. The tension that had been building up between them since they'd met reaches its critical mass; sending electricity crackling through their veins.

He groans softly, low in his throat, and then his arms circled her, gathering her against him.

It's the kind of kiss that starts out so apprehensively; so softly and quickly intensifies in the manner that made them both cling to each other with a strange and unfamiliar fervent need that could only be preceded by the kinds of loneliness that they'd both experienced prior to finding one another.

His arms can't help themselves; they snake up past her shoulder blades and tangle into her sandy yellow hair.

"Soul," she whispers against him.

He doesn't stop kissing her neck to answer.

She's finding it particularly hard to resist, especially considering that each kiss he peppers against her collarbone makes her shudder and sigh.

"Soul," she manages again, a little louder.

This time he stops and looks at her, albeit lazily. "Hmm?"

She swallows, biting her lip. "Are we, I mean, I don't know…"

He blinks, unsure how to apprehend her totally confusing and not-at-all lucid sentence. He elects not to talk, instead dipping his head back down to her neck, where things were safe.

A low noise of annoyance comes out her throat and she utters out his name a third time. "Soul!" she startles him out of his reverie and he reluctantly pulls away from her.

"Okay, what _is_ it?"

Maka sighs, exasperated. "I think we should… talk."

"Talking sounds like work," he flashes his teeth for a millisecond. "This is fun."

She has to laugh at his insistence. "I know, but. I… have stuff that I want to say."

He settles back against the couch cushion, readying himself to hear whatever she has to say. She takes a deep breath and then launches in. "Okay. I want you to tell me what happened earlier, Soul. If we're going to be weapon partners, you… you need to be honest with me. I think you owe me that, at least. And… it feels like you're keeping something from me," she says slowly, gauging his reaction.

He doesn't react, outwardly at least.

"You want to know what happened?" he stands up and picks up the bottle of whiskey again, taking a large swig straight from the bottle. He meets her eye, the good grace to look a little abashed. "There's people here who blame me for Kim's death," he says, after a while.

"The girl that died on that mission…?" she asks. "I don't follow…"

"The witch that died," he corrects. "On my watch."

"R-right."

"Her boyfriend came after me, today. Wanted a fight. I guess I don't blame him," Soul scratches his head, feeling awkward. "But I, uh, well. I didn't. Fight him," he clarifies.

"Is that why you're acting so strange?"

"I guess I needed to blow off steam," he admits, pouring what's left of the bottle into a glass and sipping gingerly. "Sorry."

Maka smiles, and then frowns. "Is there something else, Soul?"

"W-well. It depends, I guess…" he clears his throat, and downs his drink, for good measure. "Do you remember when you were h-hallucinating that black cat?" he asks, wanting to take the words back as soon as they came out of his mouth.

Maka frowns. "Uh…"

"Well, there's. There's a _chance_ ," he sighs, placing his empty glass on the table with a heavy hand. "-that wasn't a hallucination."

Maka scrambles up quicker than he expected. "What," she enunciates through her teeth. "Does that mean."

Soul stares at the wall. "I mentioned a girl I dated, once…" he changes course, but Maka stands with her arms crossed, waiting for an explanation. "She was actually… a witch, or… kinda," he tries to explain Blair, failing. "She was magic. She sometimes took the form of a black cat."

There's a full beat.

"What?"

"It might have been Blair. In your house. In Colorado. And then, on the road here."

"What?!" Maka repeats again, angrier this time. "Why the hell didn't you tell me this?"

"Because you never asked?" he tries.

"Soul!"

"Okay, okay. I thought it was unlikely…" he admits. "And, uh. Because I didn't exactly want to. It sounds kind of mental, you know? On top of everything else? Like saying 'yeah so, my body turns into a weapon and _oh_ , by the way, my ex-girlfriend who just happens to be a magical fucking kitty is stalking you, possibly, for some reason-"

"You didn't have to put it like that!" Maka cuts him off, furious. "Jesus, Soul, why on earth didn't you think that this was worth telling me? I thought I was going mental!"

He groans. "You still might have been?"

" _Soul_!" she exclaims. "Everyone else can lie to me, fine. But _you_? You're supposed to be honest!"

He swallows. "This is… why I put off telling you, for a while. I thought the chance was so slim, and then I just forgot. And then… well, Ox brought her up today. And it popped back into my head," he hangs his head and Maka seethes.

"You're such a hypocrite, you know that? You go on and on about how the academy isn't trustworthy and full of lies and this – but you're the biggest liar of _all_ ," she accuses, the words coming out harsher than she really means them. Her arms remain crossed and Soul balls his fists.

"Well, don't worry. I'll be gone soon."

"It's your apartment, I should leave," she comments, put out. As she walks to the door, Soul stops her with a hand on her arm.

"No, Maka. I mean… I'll be gone soon. From here."

She spins round, her face red. "You _what_?" she says sharply. "What do you mean, you're going to be gone soon?! First you tell me that you've been keeping something from me, and now suddenly you're _leaving_?"

"I was _always_ leaving." His voice is annoyed now, too.

"B-but not really, right?" she stammers. "Jesus, after everything we've been through! You would just up and ditch me?" she jabs the questions in his face so aggressively that he has to wince.

"I _have_ to-"

"But we're weapon partners," she replies. "B-but you're. You're the only person I trust."

"You just said it, though, didn't you? I can't be trusted. Nobody can." He stops for a second, but starts again before she can get a chance to speak. "Trust me, Maka. You're probably safer here. I need to go and… reap what I've sown."

Maka tries to untangle his words; understand he means by that. Their collective words are still reverberating off the walls and back towards them.

There's a tense silence, which is interrupted by Soul's burner phone going off in his pocket. "Ah…" he says awkwardly, fishing it out. "Kid gave me this. In case he needed me," he explains. "It's… Professor Stein."

"Well, answer it!" Maka says angrily, still sullen.

Soul holds the phone to his face. "Kid?" he says. "Yeah… yeah. Well, it's kinda late… no. No, I get it. That's fine. Yeah… bye," he snaps the phone shut with an angry expression.

There's another silence.

"You gonna tell me who that was?"

"It was… Kid. He said that Professor Stein wants to see us. Now."

Maka frowns. "But isn't it like, eight in the evening?"

Soul shrugs. "I guess… it must be important."

* * *

"Thank you both for coming so late," Stein says in that sneery, creepy way that Soul has become accustomed to. Neither party replies for a full minute.

"What did you call us here for?" Maka breaks the stony silence, after a while, realising that nobody else is going to.

"Let me start out by saying congratulations," are his first words, and Soul isn't quite sure if he intends to be ironic. Stein continues. "I'm not totally surprised that the two of you could resonate," he hums in his quintessential monotone, barely even pausing his work to look into the two people he'd called into his office. "Maka's mother had an extremely malleable soul."

Soul raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to ask how Stein knew about their resonance last night, but then immediately closes it again.

Black Star must have spread the word round, he figures. News like that spread like wildfire around these parts.

Maka doesn't seem in the least bit concerned about his knowing – but she looks somewhat taken aback by Stein's assertion. "Right, but surely it's unusual for it to happen so… so… _cataclysmically_ ," she blurts out, trying to think of the right word.

Professor Stein nods in agreement. "Yes, I suppose it is. Regardless of how or why it happened, Maka, you should know that it puts you in a _very_ enviable position," he changes the subject, his eyes suddenly flitting darkly up to Maka. "Very enviable indeed."

Soul's hackles raise by about a million percent and he violently suppresses every urge to jump wildly in front of her to shield her from oncoming attacks. He cuts in verbally, instead. "If you're suggesting that-"

" _Which_ , if you wouldn't mind letting me finish, Soul…" Stein sends him a stern glance, before focusing his attention back to Maka. "…would be a senior position within the school." He pauses. "With some training, of course. Rome wasn't built in a day."

"You can't be seri-"

"I _am_ serious, Evans." Stein cuts him off again. "Kid informed me about your little chat, yesterday. I assume that Maka is now also privy to this sensitive information – yes?"

"Yes," he grits out.

"Excellent. Then we _all_ understand the dire situation that we may find ourselves in very soon," he clasps his hands together, his merry tone underscoring the rather macabre implications of his actual words. "Which makes it even more imperative that you seriously consider this offer, Maka."

Maka frowns. "I don't really understand what I'm being offered."

Soul looks ready to jump in, but Stein beats him to the punch by a second. He laces his fingers together and rests his chin upon them, a rictus smile spreading through his face. "We're offering you… a contract with Shibusen, of sorts. Think of it as an opportunity to develop your skills and train as a meister with some of most elite weapons. It would be a permanent home and lifestyle. Security. Money. Stability," Stein continues. "Among others."

Maka gets the distinct impression that Professor Stein would have made a great salesman in some alternate universe. " _Uh_ …" she drawls, strapped for anything to say. "B-but, I mean, I want to be _Soul's_ meister…" her eyes flitter between the two weapons in confusion.

Professor Stein nods while adjusting his glasses. "Very good; that is what I expected to hear," he replies, in a tone which suggests that he really means the diametric opposite. "But I feel I must inform you that you'd be wasting your potential in partnering with Soul."

Maka cocks her head to the side, practically feeling the waves of anger coming from Soul. She wonders if she's always been able to do that, or if it's a result of their newfound resonance. Either way, it's very offputting. She ignores it – figuring that is Soul wants to stand up for himself, he can. "Why is that?" she asks the doctor.

Stein raises an eyebrow, looking at both of them as he speaks. "Soul happens to be a very strong autonomous weapon. We have no _idea_ how he will cope under the strain of having partnership thrust on him, but I doubt it would be good," he pauses melodramatically. "There have been… certain other cases," he says vaguely, images of Giriko's huge chainsaw rumbling into his thoughts for a mere second.

"I'm not him," Soul reads his mind, gritting out the words.

Stein places his hands together calmly and addresses the room. "I'm well aware of that, Evans," he says, mock-pleasantly. "It's… late, anyway," he doesn't even check the clock on his wall. "I have experiments to finish. You two should go and rest."

Soul's eyes narrow. "Maka, I need to speak to the professor for a second. Alone."

Maka's eyes flit between them, and she decides not to question why Soul needs to speak to Stein without her. "Fine," she says quietly, her eyes betraying her emotions on the subject. "I'll wait outside. Thank you, Professor Stein. You've… given me a lot to think about."

The door clicks quietly behind her. Soul waits for ten whole seconds for her to leave the immediate vicinity before he makes his move. In two long strides, he has the doctor pinned.

Watching Stein squirm underneath the pressure of a sharp, black and red scythe was extremely satisfying, under the circumstances.

"Evans," the professor coughs out, despite his restraint. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"What do _you_ think you're doing?" Soul bites back. "Grooming Maka for one of your little science experiments?"

Stein frowns, idly fingering the blade pressed against his neck. "If you want to talk like adults, I'm more than happy to do so. But I should warn you. _This_ -" he references the weapon currently pressing into his throat with a little nod downward. "-will not end well for you."

Soul barks out a cavalier laugh. He's beyond caring about Stein's idle threats, and besides. A nice old fashioned _tete-a-tete_ with the good doctor sounds quite appealing right about now.

Nevertheless, he removes his blade.

"Thank you," Stein smiles pleasantly, adjusting his tie. "Now, let us talk." He leans back in his chair, waiting for Soul to speak.

Soul doesn't hang around. "I want you to tell me how Kid could have _possibly_ known about the academy being targeted?" Soul narrows his eyes.

Stein smiles; ghostlike and faint but still there. "We have sources."

"Let me guess, _Medusa_ told you!?" he barks an angry laugh. "That miserable old hag never spoke the truth once in her life."

Stein grimaces. "Well, Medusa did tell us. But we had other sources, too. All of which confirmed for us what the witches have been planning."

"So, your sources… are _witches_?" Soul asks again, bluntly incredulous. "Jesus, have you all gone _insane_?" he shakes his head.

"Not quite witches," Stein corrects him, cryptic as ever. "Not quite… _not_ witches, either."

Soul frowns. "Start speaking English," he demands, slamming a slightly redundant fist down on the table.

"Do I have to spell it out for you, Eater?" Stein says mockingly. "It was Blair."

"W-what?"

"That's right! Your little _pet_ told us. Right before she betrayed us for the witch realm."

Stein's voice rings out throughout the room, bouncing off every available surface.

There's a silence. Soul feels the surface of his skin freeze over and his stomach drop. "Blair…" he practically whispers. "What did you _do_ to her?"

Stein smiles with glee. "Oh, that cat was _incredibly_ difficult to get information out of, did you know that?" he makes a noise of remembered irritation. "You must have some misogynistic tendencies for putting up with her for so long, that's for sure," he pushes his glasses further up his face. "What I wouldn't have given to have that stupid thing euthanised, let me tell you…"

Soul retracts his hand as if the surface has scalded him, inhaling quickly. "Blair's… dead?"

"Relax. Kid wouldn't let me, the bleeding heart. We just kicked her out." Stein says in a careless manner. "She gave us what we wanted, for a price. And then she made it clear that she's loyal to nobody," Stein pauses for a second, letting his words sink in. "Cats seldom are."

Soul's frowns slides deeper down, shadowing his whole face. "This whole time, I thought Blair was spying for the DWMA…" he trails off, remembering Maka's story about the talking black cat following her around Colorado.

Stein seems a little surprised, and a small chuckle comes out of him. "Why on earth would you think that?" he laughs. "I couldn't trust that cat as far as I could throw her. It seems the only thing she ever cared about… was you. And once _you_ packed up and left, she had little interest in any academy matters. But before she left, she managed to make herself useful just once."

Soul bites his lip. "Yeah?"

"She gave us some information about a certain plan…" he pauses. "Which involved convincing the Grand Witch that Shibusen needs to be _stopped_." Stein finishes. "Can you guess how she managed to do that? Any witches pop into your head who've been wronged by the academy? _Killed_ , even?"

Soul's heartbeat quickens. "She… used Kim's death as a bargaining chip…" he continues his professor's sentence. "So this is all _my_ fault…"

"Regardless of whose fault," Stein clears his throat, feeling as though they were beginning to get off topic. "I think we all agree that in order to fight off the entire realm of witches, we need resources at our disposal. Resources that we don't have."

"What if I leave?" Soul asks. "Maybe the witches would just come after me. Not the academy," he stammers.

Stein almost laughs. "Do you think that they're content killing just _one_ member of the DWMA?" he shakes his head. "They won't stop until we're all gone, Soul. They won't stop until witches rule the earth, and the whole institution is long dead."

Soul swallows. "What do you suggest I do?"

Stein smiles, having finally reached his endpoint. "Don't get me wrong. You _should_ leave."

"What?"

"If you stay, you will only cause dissent. You don't trust me, you don't trust Kid, you don't listen to authority… no, _no_. You'll be a bad influence on the others," his smile reaches his gums, that's how wide it is across his face. "The best thing you can do – for us, for _Maka_ … is to leave Nevada." He pauses. "Travel… well, don't travel _too_ far. Hunt down witches, if you can. Find more survivors. Find any information that you can. And then report back."

Soul bites his lip harder. "Find witches," he repeats, scratching his head. "And where might they be?"

Stein laughs and clasps his hands together, enjoying this far too much for Soul's liking. "That's the fun part! We have no _idea_. We've had weapons and meisters running recon missions all over Nevada to find out. So far… no luck. If they have a base at all, it's not in this state."

Soul's face falls. "So why not send them outside Nevada?" he points out.

"If they leave Nevada, they're outside our protection. They're out of our reach. Then, it's any man's game. We may be desperate, Soul, but we're not desperate enough to start sending valuable weapons and meisters into the mouth of the beast just for answers. Not just yet."

Soul grimaces. "Then why tell _me_?"

"I know Kid. He's your friend. He wouldn't encourage you to leave – much less endanger your life," Stein points out. "But me? I'm _not_ your friend."

"No kidding," Soul mutters.

Stein's glasses glint with the light of his desk lamp. "I hope you'll at least consider my proposition, Soul. I think it would be most beneficial for all of us concerned," he points out, leaning back in his chair. "Shibusen get an extra pair of very competent eyes, and you don't even have to _be_ here. It's a win-win."

"And what do I get?" he wonders.

"In return… you can begin to make your peace with what happened to Kim," Stein says insidiously. "You have my word that I will keep Maka safe. Cross my heart," he adds, sounding a little glib.

Soul growls at the mention of her name. "You had better," he threatens lowly, standing up. "Or I will make sure that your head is not the _only_ part of you with a giant piece of metal sticking through it."

They both simultaneously realise that Soul has all but accepted Stein's proposition.

Stein smiles. " _Very_ creative, Soul. Now, you had better go. Maka is waiting, and I'm sure that you have an exceptionally long and emotional day of goodbyes ahead of you."

Soul stares blankly at his professor. And then turns on his heel, stomping out the room in much the same fashion he had entered. Which was angrily.

He almost keeps on stomping all the way back home, but at some point, Maka intercepts him. "Soul!" she calls after him as he walks away. "Soul!"

"What?" he whips round to face her, something dark and resentful written on his face. He calms down in a second after she flinches away from him. "What… what is it, Maka?" he asks, softer this time.

"W-what did you and Stein talk about?"

Soul grimaces. He's almost about to brush it off, but then he remembers their policy of honesty from earlier. "I held a blade up to his throat and told him that if he hurts you, I'll murder him."

Maka's eyes widen. "Uh… what?" she stammers. "What the hell, Soul?"

Soul shrugs. "It's the least I could do." He spits out, starting up his fast walk again.

"Soul!" she calls after him again. "Stop!"

"Why?" he wonders. "I don't need an argument, Maka, I'm exhausted."

She refrains from shouting at him; he was so horrible at communication sometimes. She takes a breath in and calmly says – "I don't need you to fight my battles for me, Soul. I'm… strong enough."

"I know that."

"Th-then why-"

"I did it for me, not for you," he interrupts, correcting her. "I exposed you to all… this," he waves around him at the academy. "If you get hurt, it's my fault."

Maka doesn't know how to reply to that. "Soul… we should both go cool off," she instructs him. He raises his brows and turns on his heel, ready to stomp away. "And when you have," she continues. "Meet me in that clearing again, later. To practice."

He doesn't reply, but in the next second, he's gone.


	16. Chapter 16

"Soul," Maka gasps, spying those familiar tufts of spiky, albino hair a mile away. "You're here," she tries and fails to keep the smile out of her voice. "I… I wasn't sure if you were coming," she explains.

"Ah… sorry," he replies sheepishly. The look on her face tugs one of the sides of his mouth upwards. "I got caught up in some crap with Stein, I guess and some others..."

She pats the ground next to her, inviting him to come and join her watch the sun setting over the desert. He hesitates, and then decides to follow her lead, sitting down and stretching his legs over the soft grass. She absently fiddles with some of it in her left hand, plucking an errant daisy from the soil and twirling it between her fingers. "Are you… okay?" she broaches the elephant in the room, a little hesitantly.

He sighs. "Yes," he replies, his voice a little hoarse. He looks very tired, she notices.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, I just… I just…" she tries, attempting to find the right words. Soul holds his hand up to silence her before she gets there.

"It's fine, Maka."

Neither of them says anything for a while, and then she feels his hand reach out; land softly on top her hers. She breathes a little sigh of relief at the gesture. "I missed you, earlier."

"I needed to cool off," he rubs his head, sheepish.

"Yeah, me too, probably. I still came here, though."

Silence again.

"The only reason that I got so annoyed is because… I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay _here_. With me. You _know_ that," she tells him, her voice earnest as her brows knit together in concern. "Why are you still acting so strangely?"

"I-I'm not," he stammers. "It's fine."

She clenches her jaw and pulls her hand away from his. "What's wrong? You are still mad at me, aren't you?" she groans in frustration. "Why didn't you just say? We can sort it out-"

"No, Maka," he says through his teeth. "I'm… sad."

She blinks at him, confused. "You're sad."

"Yes…"

There's a beat, and the penny drops.

"You're still leaving," she repeats tonelessly, her face falling blankly. "You're still leaving."

"…yeah," he admits, gritting the words out. "Maka, you have to understand-"

"When?" she says bluntly, interrupting him. She feels her eyes stinging. "Just tell me, so at least I can say goodbye," she sighs.

He looks at her, his expression soft yet sad. He doesn't need to say, but he looks back at the sunset. There's a look of grim determination about him that she hasn't seen in a while, and her heart sinks.

"Tonight, then?"

"Yeah."

Another wave of horrible silence descends down upon them. Soul reaches out to hold her hand again, but she doesn't hold it back. Her hands are limp, lifeless. He doesn't turn to look at her, but he hears her lean back on the grass, onto her back. He continues to stare off into the sunset, his chest full of the thoughts and feelings that he's never been any good at saying.

"Hey, remember back in Colorado? When we found that random lake," he says, out of nowhere. "I think that was… one of the coolest memories. Just bathing in that lake. I think you said that was your first bath in months, or something?" he smiles, basking briefly in the memory.

She sniffs, a strangled noise coming out of her nose. "For fuck's sake, Soul," she replies, almost whispering.

He ignores her. "What about you?"

She thinks for a second. Part of her wants to burst into tears, and the other part wants to slap him around the face until he decides that he doesn't want to leave her after all, but she doesn't do either of these things. She's Maka Albarn, daughter of Kami and Spirit Albarn, and she's strong, dammit.

So she takes a deep breath, and she sucks it up.

"I remember hanging out at that weird mall for a few days. Jesus, we played so many stupid games, that was fun," she lets herself smile a little. "Shopping cart mall _luge_ was probably a personal highlight." A giggle escapes her at the memory of the grown man in front of her, holding his knees to his chest as he barrelled down the mall at about 60 miles per hour in a metal cage designed for[K1] shopping.

"Not all the times you beat me at weird giant chess?"

She laughs. "Oh, yeah! We kept saying that we were going to play again, when we found a real chess set. Isn't there one around here, somewhere?"

He chuckles. "Way too asymmetrical for Kid, I'm afraid. Stein probably has one, he's the kind of loser who actually plays chess for fun…" he waits for Maka to shove him, but the shove never comes.

"Hah, yeah…" she trails off, her mind playing the scene back to her. "Ooh, what about the wine cellar? In that massive house?"

He groans. "I could have _lived_ down there, seriously," he bemoans. He pulls a cardboard carton of cigarettes from his pocket and plucks one of them out, placing it into his mouth. "This will have to suffice," he says, before lighting it and taking a large inhale.

"You're still smoking?" she wrinkles up her nose in disgust. "I haven't seen you do that since we've been here," she points out.

He shrugs. "It's looked down upon, I guess." He takes another breath in and Maka watches the pretty tendrils disappear into the night sky from the tip of the lit cigarette. "So," he starts, leaning back on his right hand again. "What's your favorite memory, then?"

She grins. "Do you remember that time you took me hunting?"

He frowns, taking another drag. "Really? Was that so special?"

"Well, I guess not," she shrugs. "I guess I'm probably looking back at it with rose-tinted glasses. But it was nice, just the two of us… surviving. You know?"

He snorts derisively and doesn't answer her.

"So…" she starts. "What's yours, then?"

His eyes flicker up and meet hers, finally. "Hot springs, no contest."

She's surprised. "How come?"

"You _know_ how come, idiot," he rolls his eyes, prompting a brief smile. She reaches forward, just far enough to plant the lightest kiss on his lips and then her face turns down again.

"It sucks that th-this is the last time we'll see each other…"

"Don't say that, Maka," he reacts quickly; irritated. He doesn't want to think that way himself, let alone hear Maka thinking that way.

"Well, then, what am I supposed to say?"

He runs a hand through his hair. "Let's… not say anything else, alright?" he proposes. "Let's just enjoy the sunset."

She agrees, partly out of the sense that she doesn't really know the proper way to deal with this situation – neither of them knew how to navigate this, really. They were just kids, like Tsubaki had said. All of them were just kids in over their head, really.

She holds his hand, lacing her fingers so they're intertwined with his. She grips onto his hand so tightly that by the time a few minutes have passed, she's lost feeling in most of her fingers but she still holds on. She's not ready to say goodbye, not just yet. Not to the only good thing that had happened to her since this whole damn virus had ruined the earth; not to the only person she's ever really been able to fully trust, other than her parents.

They stay on the hill long enough to watch the sun make its inevitable journey below the horizon, and a little while longer. When the wind starts turning cold, they both finally have to acknowledge that it's probably time to split.

Standing up, Maka is suddenly glad that it's dark, because her eyes begin to spill over with tears. "I guess we'd better go, huh?" he says, his voice reduced to something else entirely; some faint echo of himself. He sounds reluctant, at least.

"Yeah," her voice is reduced to nothing but a faint tendril. "I…I…"

He reaches up; kisses her on the forehead briefly, cutting off whatever she was trying to say to him. Her heart swells in her chest for the split second that he's touching her.

By the time she opens her eyes again, he's turned away and walking down the hill – away from her.

"Goodbye, Soul," she whispers after him, out of earshot.

She lets herself cry softly for a couple of minutes, despite her own pride. If she'd learned anything about Soul from the last few months, if was that he was a man of his word. If he said he was leaving, he really was leaving for good. Knowing this full well, she has every single negative emotion in her body all at once - letting them all out slowly as she sobs them into the licks of grass she's now kneeling in.

But Maka's never been much for weeping.

After only a minute or so, something else begins to to set into her system.

Her feelings for Soul aside, she was an _Albarn_. She was her mother - _no_ , she was stronger than her mother. If it killed her, she was going to _get_ stronger.

If she's going to stay here, and not give in to her worst temptations and go with Soul - then she doesn't want to waste that opportunity.

All the horrible pent-up emotions that she never fully explored; the feeling of unease at being in an unfamiliar place; the awful inkling that she'll never see him again... she's going to make it all worth her time.

"I'm going to do it," she whispers to herself. And she means it.

She was going to make herself the best damn meister that this school had ever seen.

* * *

:(


	17. Chapter 17

It doesn't take him long to pack his meagre possessions into a backpack – along with several of those damned nutrient drinks – and of course, a few guns. Even those with magical scythe-arms couldn't be too cautious, after all.

He doesn't cast another look back at Death City as he speeds away on his orange motorcycle, dust and sand spraying behind in his wake.

Five hours, it takes.

Five hours of sand, and yellow, and the same songs, and missing Maka.

It is accurate to say you miss someone after less than one day of being apart from them? It wasn't even enough time to fully absorb their absence, surely.

Despite this, he _does_ miss her. The thought that he might not see her again rips a fresh hole in his chest every time it crosses his mind. Every time, he'd forced to tighten his grip on the steering wheel, so that he doesn't do something like turn right back around and back to the academy.

He can't do that.

He won't do that, for her sake. And his sake, too.

Before he'd headed off, he'd managed to nab an old iPod with decades worth of music on – something he'd forgotten the last time he'd left, so he has something to entertain him through the tedious and perilous route through the Nevada desert.

His mind flits back to months prior, when their biggest problem was wasting away in that very same desert. They all would have died there, too, if Black Star and Tsubaki hadn't happened along and saved them.

He hates that he almost brought them so close to the end.

And he especially hates that _Black Star,_ of all people, had to be the one to rescue them.

...

What an inconsequential thought.

Still, after all this time away, Black Star's insufferable ego _still_ managed to raise Soul's hackles, even if just by an inch.

Eventually, sand and dust and sun give way to rocks and boulders and trees. The sun begins to peek out from the distance; squeezing in every gap between the trees; painting the sky purple.

Not wanting to fall asleep at the wheel, Soul figures that it's probably high time that he found somewhere to curl up. The whole point of leaving during the night was to prevent a spectacle, but as his yawning becomes more and more frequent – he wonders if it was an exercise in futility. After all, he's messed up his sleep schedule for days to come.

He finds some roadside wooden shack to call home. He's not sure what it's purpose is, perhaps some sort of information hut, or a shop? It's a two-room, wooden box. Four walls is all he needs – something to shade him against the sun.

He plops his belongings inside and barely scans through the place with his eyes, his knees already sinking down as his back closes the door. Napping in stealth mode, you could call it that. He's half-squatted down on his knees. His head resting on his forearms, still slick with sweat from the warmth, as sleep takes him.

His mind drifts pleasantly away, letting him imagine that he's back at the academy with Maka and not alone in some dirty shack, sleeping against a wall.

* * *

When he wakes up around four hours later, his first priority is to unjumble his thoughts and figure out where the hell he is.

When that's ticked off, he makes a mental note never to travel during the night again, and gathers his belongings together once again. He unfurls a map that he found in one of the drawers of the shack, checking his route a couple times for good measure. Then, he folds the thing back up and stuffs it in his bag – now almost too full to carry anything else.

He sets off on his bike as soon as he can, wanting to cover as much ground as possible in the few short daylight hours he still has left. Travelling during the night was safe in a sparse area like the Nevada desert, but closer to cities? It was best to keep somewhere secure after the sun went down.

For obvious reasons.

He's a little worried that his zombie fighting skills might have become slack, having been protected at the academy so long, especially now that he's on his own. He almost forgets to scope out the gas station he comes across for zombies, doubling back as soon as he realises his mistake and cautiously scanning through the whole place.

Luckily, it's safe. Otherwise he might have met a premature and rather unceremonious end, having hardly even made it out of the state.

Nobody wants to die at a gas station.

* * *

He's only been travelling for an hour or so when he starts to realise that there is somebody following him. He can feel it – there's somebody out there. The ground and the air are thick with it, the rumble of life, of an engine.

He feels the hairs of the back of his neck start to prickle as he revs his engine, trying to increase his speed but finding, to his chagrin, that he's already at his maximum.

"Stupid thing," he curses to his bike, willing it to go faster. "Who is _out_ there?" he mutters to himself.

Was it a zombie? Surely not; zombies hadn't learned to drive in the last few months, unless Soul had missed something.

Soul sighs, thinking that he might as well give up right now if zombies had learned to operate four-wheel drives. His entire survival rests upon the assumption that he's cleverer than them, and if he's not, then he's certainly doomed.

He keeps going for a few miles, trying to tell himself that he's being paranoid.

He'd been paranoid before - unsurprisingly, it was a pretty common feeling in this kind of environment. But this feels different, somehow, and it doesn't shake off after a few miles. In fact, as the miles tick over, it seems gets _more_ intense. Like whoever is behind him is gaining on him, somehow.

He even starts to think he can _hear_ it – the rumble of an engine, the sound that rubber tyres make on ground.

Maybe it's just in his head, though. Maybe it's all in his head, though he's starting to doubt it.

Soul knows better than anyone what being truly alone feels like... and he's not alone out here.

His bike engine makes a straining noise, forcing him to lightly squeeze the brakes. "Shit," he curses to himself, slowing his bike just a little. If he carries on like this, he's going to burn his tires down, or overheat his engine. He slows his pace, turns down onto a smaller road. He hadn't accounted for this change of route, and he doesn't know what it's going to mean. He hasn't got time to get his map out, so he just keeps going – hoping that he doesn't meet a dead end, or an impasse, or a block of gridlocked cars.

He grits his teeth and keeps on, weaving in and out of the cars dotted about on the road with ease. Every five minutes or so he narrows his eyes, trying to gauge whether or not he can still feel the other presence, and every five minutes, he feels it stronger.

"Goddammit," he swears again, starting to sweat from a mixture of heat, exhaustion and gnawing anxiety. He's been on a tapering road for a couple of miles, and whoever is following him doesn't seem to be letting up at _all_.

Still, he pushes the pedal to the metal and soldiers on. Figuratively, of course, in a motorcycle there were no pedals.

After another frustrating ten minutes, Soul decides that his best option is to stop and find somewhere to lay low, wait for the threat to pass. He slows to a crawling stop outside an abandoned looking building, resting his his bike upon a rusted old sign for a 7/11.

He tries the doors, first, but they're jammed shut. Dead-bolted from the inside. This shop must have been a hiding place for someone after the virus hit, he figures. Which means that there won't be any food inside, either.

His stomach growls violently in opposition to that last thought.

A few minutes of careful examination reveal a small back window – half boarded up – which offers a gap just skinny enough for his wiry frame to shimmy through. He needles his backpack through the gap first of all, hearing it thud to the floor on the other side, and then proceeds to stick his arms in, following it.

It takes a little hard work and a lot of grunting, but eventually he manages to get his entire body through, his hands grabbing onto the door frame opposite the window as lastly yanks his leg inside. As soon as he does, his hands slip on the door frame and his entire body immediately free-falls onto a hard, tiled floor.

"Ow," he groans, clutching his hip. After the initial pain subsides a little, he manages to stand up and dust himself off, taking stock of his current surroundings. He's in a small, cubicle-like room. It's a little grimy, and there's a _very_ unclean toilet to his immediate left. " _Gross_ ," he bemoans.

It's worth losing whoever is following him, though.

Being silently followed was seldom a good thing, especially out here.

He wonders briefly if the person behind him was even aware that they were following him – maybe they were just travellers, too, other survivors on their own route.

Even so.

He had met his fair share of unfriendly survivors. And he wasn't too passionate about the idea of trusting anyone right now, either.

He lays low, squatting on the floor with his gun cocked and his backpack between his legs. It feels like it's been a few hours since he last had a drink, so he rummages around in his pack to find a bottle of water and twists off the cap.

It's always tempting to glug the whole thing down at once, but Soul's not fully out of the desert yet. He has to be patient, rational. He uses an almost herculean amount of restraint, taking only the smallest of sips to hydrate himself and then closes his eyes. He screws the lid back onto the bottle and sinks back against the wall.

The awareness of company keeps him from lulling back to sleep.

He waits there for ten, fifteen, twenty minutes.

Nothing comes to pass in that time, so he stands up. He opens the bathroom door, trying to get a better understanding of the place he's decided to stop in.

He wanders throughout the unlit store, shining a pocket torch in order to see. He's met with nothing more than empty shelves and a few rats which scurry around his feet. A few more steps reveal that he was right – someone was using this place as shelter. Whoever it was, they had gathered together a few sticks. There's evidence of a fire being made, although it probably burnt out a long time ago.

It's too depressing to wander any further, and besides, Soul doesn't particularly want to see an emaciated body in _any_ state of decay. He hesitates where he stands, not sure what to do next.

He's just contemplating heading back out the restroom window when he hears the definitive noise of a rumbling engine outside the window. His ears prick up like a dogs, waiting for the noise to pass him by.

It doesn't.

It stops.

Outside.

His body freezes in panic and he quickly darts behind one of the shelves.

There's _no_ way this is a coincidence.

Whoever was outside, they were looking specifically for him. They'd _followed_ him here.

"Shit," he hisses to himself, and crouches down. He waits for something to happen next, wondering if whoever it was would sneak in the back window, the same way he did. Soul's stomach drops as he bemoans himself for forgetting to seal it shut.

There's an agonising silence for about five minutes, before a catastrophic noise makes him jump out of his skin. A huge burst of energy explodes from somewhere. It's like a bomb has detonated by the front doors to the shop, destroying anything in it's path and creating a large crashing sound.

Debris and dust fly up all around him.

He jumps back, darting behind two more shelves and crouching low again, waiting for the dust to settle.

When a quick peek around the shelf reveals that his intruder has managed to blow off the _entire_ door – sunlight now streaming into the previously darkened room - he realises that he's outclassed. He can't hide, not here.

Fighting is his only hope, now.

He transforms his left arm and with his right, clicks the safety off on his handgun.

"YOOOO!" a voice echoes from all around the debris. "Soul, buddy! Where the hell are you?!"

Soul freezes.

A whole second passes, as realisation settles in.

His arm slinks back into human flesh and he lets his palm smack against his forehead in a moment of simultaneous relief and intense frustration.

He steps out from behind the shelf, suddenly face-to-face with his blue-haired, chaotic, idiotic friend. Against his better instincts, he cocks his gun towards Black Star's grinning face.

"You scared the _crap_ out of me, you total idiot," he growls, not moving the gun.

Black Star grins and shrugs, relieved to see his friend. "What are you gonna do, shoot me?" he asks with a guffaw. "Come on, I thought you'd be happy to see me," he walks towards Soul with a spring in his step, straight into the path of Soul's gun.

Soul lowers his hands. "You could have just called my name, first," he groans, putting the safety back on and stashing the gun in his pocket. "Instead of blowing up the fucking doors."

Black Star smiles and throws an arm around Soul. "Where's the fun in that, pal?" he chuckles. "Besides, you were driving all night. I knew you needed something to keep you awake!"

Soul's brain must still be in survival mode, because he feels nothing but a strange sense of satisfaction as his fist smashes against Black Star's jaw, sending the other boy careening to the floor.

"Well, shit," he sighs, glancing down as Black Star clutches his mouth in pain. His eyes dart back up to the giant hole in the door which has compromised the 7/11 and he scratches his head. "I guess we had better find somewhere else to lay low."


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Thanks so much for those who are still reading. You are all fabulous.**

* * *

“So,” Soul starts, slinging his backpack from his back and throwing it onto the floor of the cold, abandoned bus station building that they were apparently going to call home for at least the next few hours. It had been the first thing in sight after the 7/11, so when Soul had spied it, he’d turned in – signalling for Black Star, in his big black truck, to do the same.

Now that they were here, it was probably time to clear a few things up. “You mind telling me what the hell you’re doing all the way out here?” he asks, kicking the ground in indignation.

“Dude,” Black Star sends Soul a look, as if the answer is obvious.

Soul scowls. “If you’re trying to convince me to come back to the academy, it’s not going to work-” he starts, but Black Star coolly cuts him off.

“Relax. I’m not.”

Soul’s brows furrow. “Then…?”

“I’m here… to help you.” Black Star offers up, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “Kid somehow knew you were leaving, last night. He told me that you were going to try to bait out the witches. Stop what’s coming… before it does.” His eyes turn dark.

Soul shrugs. “So why come with me? It’s not like I’m actually going to find anything… this is just Stein’s way of getting rid of me, so I don’t cause Kid any more trouble. You know that,” he says quietly, turning away.

“No, dude, I think you’re wrong.” Black Star shakes his head. A second later, something seems to pop into his head and his face lights up. “Hold on a sec, I got something to show ya…” he declares. He sprints back to the van, where he rummages around in the front seat for a few seconds and eventually finding something which he picks up. He runs back to Soul, presenting him with the object proudly, like a cat presenting a dead mouse to it’s owner.

Soul stares back at what looks like some kind of old-school compass, with a red light smack in the middle. “Uh…” he starts, unenthused. “What am I looking at?”

Black Star grins. “When I told Kid that I was going to follow you, he gave it to me. He had meant to give it to you, but you left in such a hurry…” Black Star pauses. “It detects magic signals. You can use it to follow where lots of magic is being used. I have no idea how it works, but…” he shrugs. “It’s some sort of Shinigami thing, maybe?”

Soul snorts, peering at the thing a little closer. The tiny, intricate spine is pointing East and the gem in the middle glows very faintly. “Well, it seems to want us to go back to Nevada.” He scratches his head. “It’s not wrong. I guess,” he narrows his eyes at it and then looks back up at Black Star. “Did Kid say how wide the range was?”

Black Star shakes his head. “Nope.” He points at the middle of the compass. “But look… the light here is weak. Which means that we’re far away, which makes sense, because we’re miles away from the academy.”

“Useful,” Soul mutters sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “So basically, it’s going to tell us to go back to Nevada until we get _far_ enough from Nevada that it stops picking up the academy’s magic.” He folds his arms in discontentment.

Black Star shrugs. “I guess, man,” he says, stuffing the thing back in his pocket. “I just thought… well, at least they’re serious. About you finding the witches, and maybe stopping something…”

“Fine,” Soul sighs, his gaze drawn back out towards the sun which beams brightly in through the window. “We can probably use it, but we’ll have to mark where we’ve been… luckily, I picked up a map of the area earlier,” he drawls.

“Sounds like a good start!” Black Star grins, flashing Soul a thumbs-up. “Let’s get to making a plan!”

Soul shakes his head and leans his whole body up against the front of the bus station. “No, no. Hang on. I still have a gazillion questions,” he explains, tiredly. “So… you just up and left the academy?” he asks, a little disbelieving. “How can you have just left?” He seems to remember something else, and his eyebrows twitch in surprise. “And what about _Tsubaki_?”

Black Star sighs, rubbing his head. “Well, it was hard to leave her, admittedly. But… I think… well, I was starting to think about some of the stuff you told me about the academy and…” he trails off, unsure how to continue. “I think you might be right.”

Soul snorts derisively. “I’ve never heard you say that.”

Black Star sends him a firm look. “I’m serious, dude. Kid runs a real tight ship around there, but… I’m not sure if it’s the best thing, ya know? Like, even me and Tsubaki didn’t really know the full extent of it, until…” he trails off. “Until _you_ told me, honestly.” His jaw sets, hard. “After we spoke, Tsubaki and I agreed. What Kid and Stein and the others are doing… it’s wrong, man.”

Soul’s mouth hangs open, his jaw a little slack. “Uh, are you okay, Star?”

“Yeah, dude. I’m perfect,” Black Star blows some of his long hair out of his face. “Just realising what an idiot I’ve been, I guess!” he pauses, a second longer than is natural. “When all this has blown over – we gotta go back and confront Kid. We could really change things, and I-”

Soul scowls, interrupting his hero tirade. “Forget it.”

“Wha…?”

“I said _forget_ it, man. Kid won’t change anything. He’s a stickler for routine. Stein, too. They’re so…” Soul struggles for the word. “… _mechanical_ in their planning, their thinking. Nothing we can do will change a thing. I already told him what I think of his little colony idea… he didn’t seem to care, much. He was so intent on not letting it slip that they’re under attack.” Soul pauses briefly. “He’s worried that everything will fall into chaos if people know how much danger there really is. How dangerous the academy _itself_ is.”

Black Star runs a hand through his hair, allowing the dark thought to sink in for a second. Then, he beams, effectively cracking a big hole through the tension and lets out a loud guffaw. “Guess it’s just you and me forever then, buddy!”

Soul grimaces, but then a thought occurs. “Wait, but… you said earlier that you and Tsubaki agreed.” He pauses. “So why isn’t she here, too?” he wonders.

Black Star closes his eyes, pressing a finger to his temple. “She… chose to stay behind. To keep an eye on things there; keep us informed.”

“Us?”

“Me and you,” Black Star explains with a friendly beam. “And… well, there was another reason, too.”

“Mm?” Soul’s expression lifts up, curiously.

“She’s going to protect Maka, too.” Black Star explains. “The girl is… well, I don’t know, I guess she’s kinda powerful, dude,” he pauses, as if to think about this. “I mean, there isn’t many people who are directly descended from one of the strongest weapon-meister partnerships ever formed,” he points out.

“Huh…” Soul replies, his brows furrowed.

“Tsubaki can’t read souls as well as Stein can, but she told me… she told me that she sensed something in Maka. Something she couldn’t really understand.”

“What was it?”

“She has a special soul, she said.” Black Star pauses. “Blah, blah. Special _soul_. ‘Look at me, I’ve got a special soul, I’m Maka!’” he suddenly mocks, sounding more and more like his usual self. “I know, I know. It sounds hokey as hell. But Tsubaki’s a pretty good judge of character and… well, we both know how much she means to you… and…”

Soul largely ignores him, frowning to himself. “ _Maka_? Powerful?” he asks, frowning as his eyes glance down to the floor. “Maybe that’s why she could resonate with me…” he stares down at his arm in thought. “I don’t know what that has to do with anything, though.”

Black Star shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, Spirit and Kami were awesome fighters. Maybe she’s like, a super-meister, or something?” he shrugs. “Although, I doubt her skills would _ever_ surpass mine!” he erupts in a fit of self-triumph. “For I AM THE GREAT BLACK STAR, AND I WILL SURPASS GOD!”

The self-righteous gloating comes out of nowhere, so Soul groans and good-naturedly shoves his friend away. “Let’s just surpass dinner first, yeah?” he sighs. “Then we’ll talk about God.”

* * *

They decide to stay at the warehouse until the morning – Soul’s had more than his fill of travelling for one day – and pretty soon, Black Star has a fire started.

They gather round it, mostly silent with a few small attempts at conversation. Soul stares intently at the map while Black Star warms his feet up by the fire.

“Look,” Soul points out, spotting a little blue splodge on the map that he hadn’t seen before. “I think this might be a lake?”

Black Star cranes his neck to look. “I think it’s a well,” he points out.

Soul looks closer. “Wanna check it out? I could probably do with a water refill.”

The splodge happens to be only a few miles from where they’re based, so in the next twenty minutes they find themselves driving Black Star’s van up to it, hoping for some water. They’re not disappointed, although the water itself is tinged green and smells of algae.

Not exactly drinkable, they conclude.

But definitely still good for getting clean and cooling off, at least. Soul has a lot of fun throwing the entire bucket of it at Black Star as they manage to kill time for around for an hour or so.

You had to stay sane, somehow, Soul rationalises. And having cool water on your skin was a godsend after hours and hours of relentlessly hot sun on your back.

By the time an hour has passed, they’re both soaked through to their skin and their hair is plastered to their foreheads.

Black Star giggles childishly. “I bet you wish you were with Maka right now, dude,” he sniggers as he lifts his t-shirt off over his head and wrings it out between his hands. “Sorry,” he shrugs, flexing his muscles in the car window reflection, admiring himself.

Soul scowls. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t imagine what you two got up to, all alone for all that time!” he laughs, and then grimaces. “Well, I can, actually. I just don’t _want_ to.”

Soul plasters his hair back from his forehead and thinks. “We weren’t alone the whole time. We picked up Patty and Liz in Utah, remember?” he points out. “Besides, I didn’t… I didn’t see her like that. At least until a few weeks before we got to Nevada.”

Black Star makes a face, kicking a pile of sand under his foot. “We don’t have to talk about this, man, we’re not _chicks_.”

Soul rolls his eyes. “You brought it up, asshole,” he notices that Black Star is still flexing admiringly at his own reflection. “Quit looking at yourself.”

“If you had _my_ muscles, you’d look too!” Black Star retorts.

Soul shakes his head in disappointment, removing his shirt and actually enjoying the hot Nevadan sun on his skin for a second. As he wrings the heavy fabric between his hands, water oozes out of it and splats rather satisfactorially on the ground.

After a few seconds, he notices that Black Star is staring at him intently. “What?” he asks, and then realises that Black Star’s attention is trained onto his stomach. “Oh, my wound.”

Black Star shakes his head. “ _No_ …” he pauses, his voice slow and suddenly in a whisper.

The way he’s staring sets Soul’s teeth on edge. “Star, what the hell is wrong with you?” he looks down at his stomach and frowns. “I don’t get it…”

Black Star points, mouth agape. “What happened to your wound?!”

Soul frowns. His eyes widen as he realises that Black Star is, in fact, correct. Where there was only a few days ago a giant gaping bullet wound taking up a significant portion of his stomach – there is now nothing.

Nothing but a tiny, inconsequential, hardly-even-visible little scar where the bullet had entered him.

“What the fuck?” he says to himself, rushing up to the car window reflection to get a better view. The reflection confirms it – his bullet wound has healed.

In a matter of days.

He feels dizzy, so he sits down as Black Star shoots him a concerned look. “What the hell…?” He feels his stomach for the wound he knew had been there a few days prior. “No, no, this can’t have just disappeared. Maka shot me! She even had to stitch it up!” he swears.

“Wait, so… it’s just _gone_? Like that?” Black Star blurts, confused. “I gotta say, dude, I… I really don’t understand why that would happen…”

“M-maybe it was something Stein gave me?” Soul wonders pathetically, feeling for the wound again and breaking into a second cold sweat when he can’t find it with his fingers. “There’s nothing. No bruise, no mark, nothing. Where are the suture marks?!” he wails, suddenly hysterical. “This doesn’t happen. This _doesn’t_ just happen,” he hisses.

Black Star looks just as stumped as he is. “I… this is so freaky, dude. I only saw that thing like, four days ago. And it was pretty freaking bad. How can it just have _gone_?”

Soul stands up, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I don’t know, dude.” He pauses. “Maybe Stein’s nutrient drinks have some sort of wound-healing property in them?” he theorises, knowing as soon as it comes out of his mouth that it’s a bullshit answer. “I… I…” he stammers, at a loss.

“No, dude, we’d know.”

“You’re right.”

There’s a silence in the air. “M-maybe it’s _magic_ …?” Soul wonders incredulously, scratching his head. “I guess it _could_ be…”

Another silence, as their eyes meet in confusion and shock. Black Star takes a breath. “Okay. This is officially the weirdest thing that’s ever happened,” Black Star says, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy. “But… I think we should head back. Try… try to forget about it. For now. Until we figure out why the hell this would happen.”

Soul nods, his brow furrowed. “Fine by me.”

“Cool… then… let’s go. And… put your shirt on, dude. It’s kinda buggin’ me out.”

Soul hurriedly does so.

Neither boy speaks on the short trip home, both far too strung-out from all the weirdness to think of anything to say.


	19. Chapter 19

_Dodge, parry, parry, strike, strike, defend._

Maka finds herself repeating the words over and over to herself as her sword clangs angrily against the sword of her opponent; her hair whipping round each time she attacks, throwing her whole body weight around with ease.

The boy she's fighting is starting to wane, she feels. He's backing against a corner, he's being pushed back. Maka takes that as her chance to 'finish' him off, using a three-pronged attack to completely back him against a stone wall. With three loud, metallic clangs of metal, he's suddenly completely at her mercy.

"Okay, _okay_ ," the boy in front of her pants, throwing down his bronze weapon with an almighty clatter onto the stone steps in front of them. "I give up. Stop," he wheezes, out of breath and clutching his stomach. "You win." He stands up from where he's cowering and turns to look at a white-coated figure in the distance. "Sir, she won again!"

A small smile tickles Maka's lips and she holds out the sword in her hand. It quickly disintegrates, shifting back into a smiling, pretty Japanese woman.

"Well done, Maka!" Tsubaki clasps her hands together as they high-five in the air. "That was your quickest one yet!" she grins. "I think you're getting stronger."

Maka allows herself a proud smile, but only for a second. "You did a lot of the work, didn't you…"

Tsubaki hesitates, shrugging before she places a comforting hand on Maka's shoulder. "Less and less each time, I promise."

Maka groans. "Are you sure?" she asks. "Please don't lie to me, I need to know if I'm getting stronger. I… I don't want to rely on my weapon. I want to be like my mother," she says with a grim face of determination. "She never relied on anyone."

Tsubaki nods enthusiastically. "Maka, you've made an amazing amount of progress in just a few weeks. It's almost unheard of. You're already beating two-stars weapon-meister teams." She grins. "Not to mention, you're capable of resonating with almost any of the weapons that Stein's given you."

"It's true," a deep voice cuts in at that moment, confirming Tsubaki's words of praise. "You are making startling progress. It's very encouraging."

Maka's head whips round to see Professor Stein approaching the two of them, having watched and carefully analysed her last fight. "Thank you, Professor." She presses her hands together in thanks and bows down to the formidable doctor. "I appreciate it."

"But..." he continues, making her heart sink. "You have a long way to go."

Maka sighs, nodding in agreement. "I know," she bites her lip. "But… you can teach me! My mother and my father took so much away from me, keeping all this from me. I… I just want to catch up on all the missed years of training," she pauses. "And, uhh…"

"Yes?"

"Well, I've decided. I want Tsubaki to be my weapon partner. For now. If that's okay?" she asks. "I just…" her gaze casts for a second over the smiling sword-type. "I just felt like we worked together as a team really well..."

Stein hums and shifts his gaze to Tsubaki, who nods in accordance. "I want that, too. Maka's unusually powerful, for such a junior meister. And we resonate very well together. I haven't resonated so strongly with somebody since… well, since Black Star."

There's a strange chill that seems to go through them all at the mention of his name, but Maka quickly changes the subject. "Yeah, it's the same for me and… and Soul," she bites her lip. "Maybe we could even learn to resonate better than I could with Soul…" she suggests.

Professor Stein smiles. "You are free to choose your own weapon partners," he starts off, but his voice contains a hint of warning. "But you should also be warned that soul resonance is _not_ something that can be forced, or learned. It happens naturally between two compatible souls. Only very talented meisters and weapons can force resonance, and even then…" he hesitates. "It seldom ends well."

Tsubaki smiles. "Thank you, Professor."

Maka bites her lip.

"And Maka…?" Stein continues, apparently not finished with his warning. "I should also mention that the rate of resonance you and Soul achieved together is extremely rare. I have only ever seen a few weapon-meister partners come close to that kind of resonance." He nods at the two girls. "I only say this so that you won't be disappointed if you can't recreate that kind of attack with Tsubaki. However, I am sure that the two of you will excel as partners – you are two of my most diligent students, after all!" he finishes, complete with a proud twinkle in his eye.

Maka frowns and her gaze falters. "Thanks…" she says, but something in her tone is off.

Was that really true? Could she really only resonate like that with Soul?

But why _him_?

Why did it have to be the one person who she would probably never see again? The one person who had left her, his friends, and the academy behind?

She spares a quick glance up at Tsubaki, wondering if she feels the same thing about Black Star. After all, she'd been left by her partner too. And Tsubaki and Black Star been a team for years and years, something that she couldn't claim to rival.

There's a brief moment of pause, before Stein clears his throat.

"Anyway, good job today, girls. Keep up the training. I'll check in on you tomorrow – and in a few days, I'd like to see how the two of you fare against a real threat," he says with a terrifying glint in his eye. "Goodbye!"

"Bye," Maka murmurs as he turns on his heel. She watches him with a little suspicion as he stalks across the balcony, presumably back to his lab to run more tests. Under her breath, she whispers, "Creep," and then giggles at herself. That was Soul's influence.

She's surprised to find herself thinking about him.

It had been a few weeks since she last saw him. Mostly, she was coping by spending every spare second training; running, sparring, learning, and meditating. By all accounts it was working – she'd managed to successfully avoid processing Soul's departure for quite a while.

But at night, she would spend _hours_ trying and failing to fall asleep. She sometimes woke up in cold sweats, plagued with awful nightmares where he's been killed, or turned into a zombie, or some other horrible fate. As a result, she'd sought out Professor Stein to give her some sleeping tablets. He had obliged, although whatever he had given her was far stronger than she had expected and she had ended up conking out for around fourteen hours.

So ignoring her feelings had become the only option. She rationalised it: time was a good healer, and it wasn't like he was ever coming back. He was best forgotte about - she just had to get over it. She had to grow stronger; _better_.

That's what all the training was for; what all of the silly sparring matches were for.

It's her new life in Death City.

It's a big city, especially for someone who spent much of the last few years locked up inside a small home.

And there's a lot of things she still didn't understand about the academy. Things here were more than a little strange, at the best of times, and Maka herself finds herself having odd run-ins with bizarre events all the time. Walking into the bathrooms to find that all of the toilets had been mysteriously smashed to smithereens, for example. When she'd asked Tsubaki that, the girl had just shuddered and advised her that Stein and Marie were probably fighting, and it was best to avoid the topic completely.

And Kid, too. The whole symmetry thing bugged her out - the other week, he'd insisted that if she was going to stay at the academy, she would have to start wearing her hair in pigtails again. Pigtails! She was an _adult!_

Sometimes, Stein would ask to take her blood. She wasn't sure why, but he'd said that he wanted to run tests. She shudders to think about the kind of strange experiments that he's running in that creepy, patchwork laboratory of his but if giving him a blood sample every now and then would keep him from trying to take it himself… well, she _really_ doesn't mind.

Tsubaki seems worried about her. Every time she wins another sparring match, or makes a new bout of progress, Tsubaki's always standing there with that proud smile, betraying only the slightest hint of worry, or concern.

Maka doesn't understand that, either.

* * *

Kid leans back onto the soft leather of his office chair, feeling it creak with the pressure of his weight. He sighs loudly, irritably.

There were three people in his office. Three was not Kid's favourite number, not by a long shot. Three could not be divided by anything except 3 and 1. He hated prime numbers.

Professor Stein, Marie Mjolnir, Nygus.

"Where is Sid?" he asks, more irritated at the lack of symmetry than Sid's actual absence.

"He's held up with some work," Nygus explains calmly. Nygus was one of those presences that managed to be the coolest person in any room she was in, by default. This was no exception. Between Kid's neuroses, Marie's histrionics and Stein's full-blown-sociopathy… she was the only sane person here.

Kid blows air out his noise in frustration. "Fine."

"As I was saying, Kid…" Marie fidgets with her fingers, continuing on from where she was before Kid's outburst. "We're just not sure about the current plan."

"The current plan being?"

"Pretend like everything is normal and hope that we can defeat the witches," Marie clarifies. "They're stronger than us," she pauses. "They're cleverer. They have magic."

Kid raises his head up from the desk and makes a narrow expression. "If they were stronger than us, they would have attacked already. It's like… it's like they're biding their time. Waiting for something. I wish I knew what."

Professor Stein clears his throat, signalling that he's about to speak. All three other occupants of the room turn to look – he was generally much more subdued when they discussed strategy, preferring to weigh in on science or medical matters instead. "For us to leave Death City, perhaps?" he ventures. "After all, while Lord Death's spell remains on this place, witches cannot enter the premises."

"We're self-sustaining, are we not?" he frowns.

"For now, yes."

"Hm," Kid replies in a clipped tone. "Still. It will be a rather long wait, if that's the case."

Nygus speaks up, too. "It's witches, Kid. It's safe to assume that they have a pretty solid plan. They aren't just idiots that would come marching up to the barrier and just wait there. They're doing something. I can… I can sense it."

"Me too," Marie agrees, biting her lip.

Kid's frown falls deeper. "They can't get in. End of story."

There's a brief silence.

Professor Stein pushes his glasses further up his face. "I hate to remind you of this, Kid. But… they're _already_ in."

"What?"

"Medusa."

Kid bristles at the mere name, but he tries to disguise it. "What about her? She's locked away in the dungeons. If she wanted to escape, she would have done it eons ago. She needs help, and her help are all stuck behind the barriers of Death City," he reasons. "Do you think that she might be part of the plan?" he wonders.

She shrugs. "I don't know how witches think, I'll admit," she holds up her hands defensively. "I just know that they are clever, they are powerful… and they're against us." She hesitates. "And that can't be a good thing, Kid."

Kid's mouth turns downwards. "No," he agrees, and then turns to the Professor. "If they breach the barrier… what chance do we have of winning this?"

Professor Stein tilts his head to the side, calculating in his head. "Slim, probably. We have several very strong fighters. We have you, Kid, and the twins. Nygus and Sid. Marie and I. Ox and Harvar. Jackie… Kilik… the others," he hesitates. "And… well, Maka."

"Maka?" Kid questions. "Surely she can't be on the same list as the rest of us…?" he wonders.

"She's not. Not yet," Stein answers honestly. "But… well, if I may speak theoretically?"

"Go ahead."

"I sense something in her attacks; in her soul wavelength. It's hard to explain, but it reminds me of a move that her mother used." He clears his throat. "It's called witch-hunter. I've only ever seen it used once, by Maka's mother. It has a very unique ability to actually heal any evil it touches, and spread good… when used correctly, it's a very powerful tool."

"This is just hearsay," Kid starts, but Marie joins in, shaking her head in tandem with her husband.

"No, Kid, Frank is right. Witch-hunter can only be performed by those with the purest of souls… called _Grigori_ souls, if we're being technical..." she smiles at her partner supportively. "Frank has been working with her to understand how we could unlock the potential of her soul, but, well…"

"It's slow-going," Stein finishes for her. "She's making a lot of progress in her training, but we're already on borrowed time. I've been analysing and testing samples of her blood. So far, I haven't found anything particularly useful, but I plan to continue my research."

Kid frowns. "You think this witch-hunter move has the potential to beat them?"

Stein smiles. "I think there's a chance it could even… reserve the effects of the virus, if utilised correctly," he admits, lowly. A shocked gasp ripples through the room, through Nygus and Kid simultaneously. Marie's face reflects the grim determination of her husband's.

"Really?"

"It's critical that we gather more information. I don't want to push her too far – I haven't even told her this much, yet - but we haven't got much time…"

Kid nods understandingly. " _Push_ her, Stein," he instructs. "If you're right… then we might be able to win this."

The professor nods in accordance. "I will test her skills against mine, in a few days. I'll report back to you on her progress."

* * *

"ARGH!" Liz's yell echoes out through ancient stone walls and floors, reverberating unpleasantly from every single cobblestone in sight. She slaps a hand over her mouth with widened eyes, and then glances at her sister.

"Ssh!" Patty presses a finger to her lips, sending her sister a stern look. "Stop yelling," she whispers.

"Sorry," Liz removes one of the hands to hiss in response. "But I thought I saw a spider!"

Patty giggles. "There's probably loads of spiders, sis. You gotta quit shouting, though. Or else someone's gonna hear us. And I'm pretty sure that we're not meant to be down here…"

Liz clears her throat and grumbles at her sister. They creep a few steps further down into the depths of the basement below Shibusen – at least of part of which was a dungeon complex where they kept their most dangerous prisoners. It was creepy, to say the least. There was no light except the burning sconces on the walls. The only thing that told you where exactly you were was a series of increasingly confusing mounted maps, and Liz wasn't much of a navigator at the best of times.

Descending the staircase to the lower levels of Shibusen is in many way, not completely unlike descending some sort of spiralling staircase to the pits of hell. Liz starts to have second thoughts about their little excursion. She says as much to Patty. "Are you sure we should be doing this? I feel like we're probably not going to find anything, and it's so weird down here…" she starts off, biting her lip.

Patty frowns and shakes her head. "Being scared is not a good reason not to do something, Lizzy. You should know this," she pauses. "Besides, we've been putting this off for weeks. Kid's been working us to the bone – we gotta do this while we still have the chance. While he's distracted! He'll never let us in, otherwise."

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Liz questions, scratching her head. "He's so cagey, that kid."

"He's weird," Patty giggles in agreement, twisting a finger into her temple to imitate a corkscrew. "Come _on_ ," she hisses, tilting her head to the side in a gesture that Liz should hurry up and follow her.

"Slow down! These shoes were _not_ made for walking."

Eventually, the two girls descend to the dungeon levels. There's a ghostly chill permeating the corridor, and the faintest of scraping noises.

They share a look.

Liz's teeth chatter. "This is scary, Pat," she comments, her voice a little quieter.

Patty swallows, presumably in agreement, as they both stare down the long, lit hallway. "I'm guessing that the doors on either side are prisoner's cells…" she says slowly. "Woah."

"Woah _indeed_ ," Liz says with disgust, her teeth set on edge. "It's cold. It's creepy. Can we go now?" she asks, her voice sounding a little desperate.

"No!" Patty exclaims suddenly, causing Liz to jump and send her a glare. "We've come this far. We've got to at least peek inside one of the cells, sis!"

Liz groans. "Fine, fine. But if I get turned into a newt… I'm _so_ blaming you."

They pad across yards and yards of empty cells, and a few occupied ones that neither sister has the courage to look inside. The empty ones are bad enough, though. The better accommodation contains a stone slab for a bed, a small hole for a toilet, and not much else.

The worse ones are just chains and cages.

"Oh my God," Liz whispers, pointing at one room which looked like someone had drawn on the walls with blood. "What the hell? Who do they keep down here?"

"Kishin," Patty muses. "Come on, I want to look inside one of the closed ones."

"Be my guest," Liz shakes her head.

Patty excitedly trots up to one of the tiny windows which separate the endless corridor from the various prison cells and sticks her nose right up to the hatch. "Here we go," she says trepidatiously, and slides the small hatch all the way to the left.

There's a second long pause in which Liz waits expectantly.

Then, Patty gasps and slams the hatch closed with a metallic 'clang'.

"What was inside?" Liz asks curiously, staring wide-eyed at her sibling. "Pat, are you okay?"

Patty's eyes are like saucers and she points to the door with one trembling finger. "You should take a look yourself," she advises.

Liz frowns, her curiosity effectively piqued, and she eyes up the small window. "Alright," she says to herself, squaring up to do it. "Fine."

She slides the hatch open a lot more cautiously than her sister had and peeks into the small window herself. Inside, she's face to face with a humanoid creature – something the same shape as a human, but not quite. It's an infected human – she can tell from the red eyes, the rashy skin, the rabid look on it's face.

"What the _hell_ is one of those doing down here?" she hisses, recoiling a few paces. "Surely there's enough of them outside the walls that they don't need to keep them down here, too?!"

Patty shrugs, her eyes narrowed. "Do you think that all the cells down here contain zombies?" she ponders. "You gotta wonder why they'd even bother with that."

"No," Liz shakes her head. "No, Kid says something about keeping kishin souls down here. It can't just be zombies," she thinks for a second. "My guess is they use these dungeons for whatever they need to. It's what I'd do…"

"But why do they need zombies?"

Liz opens her mouth to speak, before realising that she doesn't know the answer to that question.

Just that second, the girls are interrupted by a jarring, female voice emanating from a few yards away.

"Excuse me," the voice says in a small, polite tone. Liz and Patty both jump out of their skin and a small shriek of terror escapes Liz's mouth. "Sorry to bother you."

The voice comes from a tall, slender figure wearing a black robe. Underneath the sleeves of the robe, the crisp white cuffs of a dress shirt poke out. "W-who are you?" Liz takes a sharp breath in, her stance automatically moving in front of her sister as if to protect her.

"Oh, nobody really…" the voice sounds almost on the verge of tears. "I'm just looking for my mother. Have you seen her?"

Liz and Patty turn to face either other, both equally as stricken by the strange sight before them. "Uh… whose your mom?"

"She told me to come and find her, so I could let her out. She's in one of these dungeon's cells… I just don't know which one!" the voice suddenly wails, getting louder and more shrill. "I can't deal with this!"

Liz and Patty's expression grow more concerned.

"D-did you say your mom's in one of these cells?" she repeats, hoping that she heard wrong. "And that you're here to let her out?"

"That's right, I'm here to let her out. That's what I need to do, that's what she told me to do. I just wish that it was easier!" the voice moans again. "I don't know how to deal with all this…" the white hands fly out of the side of the robe to grab his hooded head in despair.

Liz mistakes the movement for an attack and in a split second, Patty has melded into gun-form and is prepped and ready in Liz's hand.

"Don't move or I'll shoot, kid," Liz hisses, channeling her most badass inner-Brooklyn accent. "I'm not kidding."

The figure slowly lets down their hood, revealing a pale, ghostly boy with choppy, pastel pink hair. His expression is stern, sad, somehow searching.

"Oh, no. Please don't do that," she asks politely, reaching round with his arms to scratch his own back. Liz doesn't move her gun one inch.

"Hands up, kid," she hisses.

"No, no. You can't shoot me. You won't shoot me…" the boy starts to take measured, small steps towards where Liz is standing and she breaks out in a cold sweat. "You're not going to hurt me," he says, his voice almost exactly the same but just a modicum more sinister. He tilts his head all the way to the side and opens his mouth again. "Do you know how I know?"

"H-how?" Liz spits out, her gun beginning to tremble in her hands.

"Just try…" the boy replies. His grin now stretches almost from ear to ear; a horrible, mocking rictus which shouldn't be physically possible on any normal human face.

Liz swears and squeezes the trigger of Patty's gun.

The wavelength bullet blasts out from the end with a whip crack, tunnelling straight through the boy's chest.

Liz freezes, stuck in place. She wants to vomit, scream and run away - all in unison. Inside her weapon form, Patty is uncharacteristically quiet.

The boy doesn't fall. He doesn't bleed. He doesn't even flinch.

He just smiles.

The wound in his chest heals up almost immediately; his skin fusing messily together in a black, sticky haze on his skin.

"My blood is black," he says, almost in a whimper.

And that's when it appears.

On his back, seemingly a part of his own person, another silhouetted figure appears. A giant, black metal, hulking _thing_ shooting out from the boy's own spine – still attached at the waist – and snarls menacingly at the two girls.

" _Kill them, Crona_ ," it growls.

* * *

This is the end of part 2!

Check this fic for updates, I'll put any in the next chapter. :)


	20. Chapter 20

Hey guys, I've started part 3 of this series for whomever is still interested. It's called 'darkest before the dawn' and it's a separate ficlet. Enjoy :)


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